Offers You Can't Refuse
by sweetprincipale
Summary: Late S.3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by a deranged Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? Someone makes Spike an offer he can't refuse- but not what you'd expect.
1. Chapter 1

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: I've played with the end of the season three timeline a little bit, nothing major, just bigger lapses of time between the "episodes"._

**_Now nominated at Sunnydale Memorial Awards, Round 28. Thank you friends!_**

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season three's dialogue will be used._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part I**

"Stop sniveling and begging. I thought I made it very clear to you that we have no help to offer for a vampire." A dry, careless voice came across thousands of miles.

"Of course, Sir, but on my own behalf, I'm asking if there's anything we can do to expedite this. At least if we found a remedy, she could focus on the major event at hand. As it is, I cannot budge her from this one foolish task, even though she knows the entire city, perhaps the state, is about to suffer from this demonic ascension."

"Budge her? You tell her to concentrate on the ascension! It is an _order_ from the Council, passed to you, given to her. End of chain of command. _You_ are her Watcher. _You _control your Slayer!"

"Yes, Sir." Only no, it wasn't so. "It's merely that there's never been quite the level of bond between her and I that there was between her and her former Watcher-"

"That's the point, Pryce." The urges that Travers had been nursing since the night he fired Rupert Giles were being stirred into a sudden boiling point. "That's what led to his dismissal and removal from the Council."

Wesley trembled at the mention. The disgrace on the house of Wyndham- Pryce should he ever be cast from the ranks of Watchers... "Of course. I merely meant to say that she doesn't follow my directives."

"Hm." Travers twirled in the leather chair in his oak paneled study. "Have you mentioned the Slayer's Cure?"

Wesley stiffened. "I- I'm not certain I'm familiar with that."

"A vampire who drains the blood of a Slayer will be healed from almost every ailment known to demonkind."

"Sir, that would kill her!"

"I'm talking of the other slayer, Pryce. Lehane. She shot him. She can cure him."

"The same problem, Sir. Surely you see, she would die, even if Buffy could catch her. Buffy- I mean, Ms. Summers, wouldn't take a human life, even if-"

"That's the only help I can offer. Mention it. Report to me tomorrow." He hung up. He rested his hand on the phone for a long time after, a speculative look on his face.

* * *

Wesley made his way back to Angel's bedside only to be stopped in the great hall by his predecessor.

"Did you reach the council?" Giles demanded.

"Yes. They-" he paused. _Killing a human to save a vampire? Unheard of. Unallowable. Travers was merely frustrated, surely._ "They couldn't help."

"Couldn't?" Buffy's tone was equally demanding.

"Wouldn't. It's not Council policy to cure vampires."

The other Brit's eyebrows rose. "Did you explain that these were special circumstances?"

"Not under any circumstances, and yes, I did try to convince them."

"Try again." Buffy's tone sent frost creeping across the skin.

"Buffy, they're very firm." He tried to reason gently. "We're talking about laws that have existed longer than civilization."

She shouted with raw desperation in her tone, "_I'm_ talking about watching my lover die. I don't have a clue what you're talking about and I don't care."

"Buffy, we'll find a cure." Giles reached for her shoulder.

"The Council's orders are to concentrate on the upcoming ascen-"

She cut him off. "Orders? I don't think I'm gonna be taking any more orders. Not from you, not from them."

"You can't turn your back on the Council."

"They're in England. I don't think they can tell which way my back is facing."

"This is preposterous! Giles, talk to her."

He gave him a long, cool glance, joining his Slayer. "I've nothing to say right now."

"Wesley, go back to your Council and tell them, until the next Slayer comes along, they can close up shop. I'm not working for them anymore."

The Watcher with patent leather hair and a nervous personality gesticulated fervently as he exclaimed, "Don't you see what's happening? Faith poisoned Angel to distract you, to keep you out of the Mayor's way, and it's _working_. You need a strategy."

"I have a strategy. You're not in it."

Wounded and puffed up pride took the place of the genuine concern he felt. "This is mutiny."

She shook her head. "I like to think of it as graduation. Giles, I can't stay here any longer. I'm gonna see if I can help the others." But as she spoke, the others came to her.

Willow ran forward with a book outstretched. "Oz found something! A Slayer's Cure! B-but there's a problem with it."

"I'll do whatever I have to. No problem." Buffy answered without even hearing what the situation was. She turned and looked at Wesley with open contempt, then gave Giles a softer, needy look. "Watch Angel for me?"

"Of course." He agreed. "I'll call if there's any change."

"Buffy, you don't know what you're doing. There's only a week left until the ascension!"

She ignored him, calling out over her shoulder, "Get a job.", as she marched off.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Sir."

"Try midnight, Pryce." Travers answered his bedside phone with the same grumpiness with which he answered his office phone. "You told the Slayer about our orders?"

"I did."

"And?"

"Ah, she was also informed of the so-called Slayer's Cure."

"I see. Lehane?"

"A terrible fight, Sir. Both Slayers are in the hospital."

"Damn. Too soon."

"What?"

"I need one of them alive and active until after the Mayor is defeated."

"Well naturally, we need-" Wesley paused. "Come again?"

Travers never answered anything until he felt like it. The perks of power. "She's refocused on the ascension?"

"I believe she'll stop it if at all possible, Sir, but- hrm. There's been a breakdown in communications. The Slayer stated she no longer wished to follow Council orders. She stated that, hm, until the next Slayer comes along we might as well close up shop."

"We seem to be thinking on the same lines." Travers mumbled.

"Pardon?"

Travers raised his voice to normal levels, no longer speaking to himself. "She's strong willed." His plan took unshakable root. Oh, not the details, simply the outcome.

"She's refusing any and all contact with me. Mr. Giles and her little band of friends, and even the vampire, are assisting her." He let a faint edge of a whine into his voice. "Under these circumstances, I believe it is within my rights to ask for a new assignment."

Travers chuckled. Nonsense. Wimpy Wyndham-Pryce was hand picked for this position. "No, what you need to ask for is a new Slayer, my boy."

Wesley's unease mounted. "I've tried to ask her. I have. I've reasoned, commanded, threatened, cajoled- even said please and offered to help her in the field!"

"Admirable, admirable." Travers' chuckle faded. "She's done this before, of course. When I fired Rupert, she 'quit'. She may come back."

"Pardon me for disagreeing, but I doubt it. The final straw seemed to be the Council's unwillingness to help Angel."

He sat straight up in his crisp linen pajamas. "Now you hear me, Pryce. There's nothing in this world as dangerous as a rogue Slayer, and I won't tolerate it."

"Lehane is in a coma. You may not have to tolerate for too much longer." Wesley replied in a bitter voice that had no traces of his usual deference.

"Not her." Travers voice rose. "Summers!" He took several deep breaths and then said in a tightly controlled voice. One last chance. "She may stay in Sunnydale until she stops the mayor. Then I want you, and her, on a plane to England. She will receive an official reprimand from the Council and several months of retraining."

Wesley removed his glasses and leaned his elbow on the counter of his small flat's kitchen. He had never heard of a slayer being "retrained" at the Council's headquarters. "I think it hardly likely that she'll agree to accompany me, Sir. She's made it plain she wants nothing to do with you- ur, the Council. She starts attending the local college in September as well."

"Since when do we allow slayers to attend college?"

"I believe very few have made it to college age, but those that have-"

"The job of a slayer is to fight evil! Slay demons! Stake vampires! There is no degree in that, and pretending there is distracts from their purpose!" Travers barked.

Wesley pulled the receiver from his ear and looked at it with a confused frown. He'd never heard his "boss" so bombastic, and say such ludicrous things. There was no law in the Watcher's Points of Order and Conduct to prevent a Chosen One from attending college or taking a partner or having a "day job", as long as her Watcher felt she could handle her duties in addition. "With all due respect, Ms. Summers is more than capable of attending college and patrolling the Hellmouth. She's managed to make it through high school, more than most slayers have, unfortunately, and with the help of her friends has successfully-"

"I've heard about those 'friends'. No more. The title is Chosen _One._ She will be reeducated on that principle in particular. On all the principles found in the Slayer Handbook. She'll reread it, cover to cover, under my direct supervision if necessary."

The whiny Watcher was about to say he imagined it would be Buffy's first reading of the handbook, but didn't want to dig her in deeper. He hated her disrespect and the fact that she cast aspersions on his ability to do his sacred duty, but he admired her spirit, her ability to achieve the impossible. The handbook didn't have a section on that, nor did he believe you could "train" a young woman to believe so passionately in her convictions, to fight with all her heart. "You sound as if you want to break her, like a - like a willful horse."

"That's an appropriate comparison. Slayers like Summers get broken, one way or another." Travers sighed. "It sounds harsh. But look what happens to renegades. You don't want her to end up in a coma as well, do you? Only one of two Watchers in history to have two Slayers under his care... and loses them both because he didn't have the command over them he should have?" The voice trailed off, hinting at the ridicule Wesley would suffer, the shame and disgrace.

"I will tell her. I'll speak to her mother if need be."

Travers made a disgusted sound. "Yes, you may consult the mother. Americans... Report tomorrow."

"She-" There was a sharp click in his ear. Wesley stared at the phone. "She may still be in the hospital..."

He hung up and began working on his most persuasive yet forceful speech, a terribly uncomfortable feeling in the back of his mind the whole time.

* * *

_Five days until graduation..._

"I've tried everything. Orders, explanations, reasoning, rationalizations, promises- even threats and bribery." The young voice shook.

Travers showed a flash of a cold smile before his face set in its perfect mask of stoic emotionlessness. "I see."

"I'm terribly sorry." The shaking was more pronounced. _There it goes. A long and relatively unblemished career... Status as Head Boy... three generations of Pryce's carrying the tradition... Over._ He waited to be fired.

"How is Lehane?"

"Ah- comatose. No improvement." Wesley answered in surprise.

"Is she easy to get to to?"

"I- what?"

"Is she under guard?"

"The mayor has his henchmen hidden all over the town, and the hospital. There aren't enough of us to take them on and post our own guard."

"I meant was she under the mayor's protection." Travers saw all the stands of his fragmented plan knitting together. "She's not easy to get to, you can't go in?"

"Well- no. I did try to visit her, but several thuggish looking men prevented it."

"She can wait. No, she's not the priority at all."

"I'm confused."

"I imagine you would be. You're not a leader, Pryce. You don't like to make the hard decisions. No discipline."

The words stung, so he remained silent. Travers continued. "There should never be two slayers. This second string batch- Kendra, Faith. Definitely inferior, wouldn't you say?"

"I-" Wesley was offended. Faith's actions and ethics yes, they were definitely "inferior" compared to the attributes of most slayers, but Kendra had been, by all accounts, extremely focused, hardworking, and much loved in her short time as an active slayer. "I wouldn't say inferior, not Kendra. Faith didn't begin this way, either, it was more of a bad run of circumstances and her lack of ability to trust, the desire to-"

His superior continued as if he hadn't spoken. "The mystical life force of the Chosen One is not meant to be so strained. We'll work on that problem later, some sort of spell to recombine essences when Lehane dies."

The nagging feeling Wesley'd had turned into a sudden blinding certainty. He gripped the phone and prayed for days of strain to be the cause of this sudden terrible foreboding sensation.

"No, the _true_ Slayer line passes through Summers. And it's Summers who is the real problem." Travers paced the length of his desk, cord stretching as far as it would go each time before he turned. "Faith is a rogue's rogue, thoroughly unsuitable, a black sheep. Summers is commendable in her fighting abilities, her kill count, her resourcefulness, her ability to pass the most difficult of tests, killing or defeating several master vampires, and averting apocalypses."

"Impressive." Wesley choked out.

"Shocking, Pryce. All that- without being under control of the Council! All that under a disgraced Watcher, all that with the utmost disrespect for myself, and the Council. Unsuitable."

"Well-"

"She is the face of this governing body, and she ignores our orders, she exploits and flaunts the lack of control we have over her! No. No, I won't have it."

"What can you do about it?" He whispered, but in his gut, he already knew.

"We need a new slayer. One completely under our control, at our beck and call." Travers began speaking in slightly kinder tone. "One that we would entrust to you, of course, Wesley."

His given name. Wesley swallowed. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Summers is a liability to us, and by extension the world, Wesley, my boy. Don't you see? She has all the gifts but she is ruled by her whims. She's a danger. What we need is a girl who can be molded to fit the true expectations, the real forces for good. Of course, to be molded like that, she'd need a Watcher who embraces the Council's decisions and rulings whole heartedly. Someone with your excellent school record, Head Boy, passed the written exam with the highest percentage in forty years."

Wesley preened slightly, and then let the words begin to make sense. "Thank you, Sir, but-"

"Call me Quentin."

_Oh yes. He's gone mad._ "Quentin. Thank you. I admire your ideals on the subject, but I don't see how you want to pursue this."

"Don't you? Then you must not be as intelligent as I thought."

He bridled. "I can't imagine you mean purposely calling a new slayer to replace Summers."

"Summers is going to get herself killed eventually. _Again._ Lehane has already begun to. These disobedient women, Pryce... Liabilities. We need a fresh start, and Summers is the one who has to be- well, sacrificed is the only word for it."

_Murdered is the only word for it. _

"Of course, if you're not in agreement, if you don't want the chance to redeem yourself- and save your job, your family's reputation- perhaps your life..." The unspoken threat hung in the air. Wesley didn't rise to it. "I can only imagine those close to Summers come under the line of fire as well." This time the threat didn't hang, it dropped into Wesley's lap.

He didn't cave. But he acted as if he had. "If, heaven forbid, Faith were to pass away from her head trauma-"

"Lehane can wait. I prefer only having one slayer to deal with. In fact- let her vegetate. I'll have someone over there by the end of the day, a specially trained nurse. We'll keep her alive until we've found a way to reunite the Slayer essences. Perhaps if both died at the same second- no, no, too risky... Once we figure the matter out, we'll have the new Slayer deal with her. She'll be under our complete control, and we shouldn't have any trouble convincing her that Faith needs to go. A heartless killer, killing innocent humans, betraying the other slayer... Yes, the new one will see it needs to be done."

_He's barking _mad_. He doesn't even hear himself! Killing innocent humans, slayer betraying slayer, that's what _he's_ proposing! Good heavens. _"Quentin, have you been feeling well?" Wesley risked asking.

"I've been the Head of this council for thirty years. I'm merely tired of the- of the _sloppiness_ I've seen in the last four." His lips curled in distaste, as if he smelled the stench of disobedience. "We start fresh. As soon as the ascension is prevented." A delicate pause. "I assume I have your cooperation?"

_Never in a million bloody years do you have my cooperation to become a cold-blooded killer. _"Of course. How do you plan on, that is- how is this to be arranged?" _Don't you dare ask me to do do this..._

"I've been considering that for some time."

Wesley's mortification deepened. _He's been _planning _this? It's not some sudden brain fever? _ Silently as he could, he began easing his way to the cassette player in the flat's living room. Damn- cord wouldn't reach. He couldn't put the phone down now. And no blank tapes. No chance to record this. Damn, damn, damn.

"You realize, of course, that this is an, how should I put this?" He paused, mentally enjoying the play on words he was about to make. "_Executive decision. _This is not a matter for the board or the full council. The weeks of deliberations and meetings... No, we need to act quickly, every second Summers is so callously disobedient is a second we're all at risk."

_The seconds they'd take to put you in strait jacket, that's what you're afraid of. But it's my word against his, and I'm hardly in good standing with the Council _now. "I see. Only the two of us know?"

"I'll have some of our loyal members assist me in some groundwork. As for her removal, after consideration, I believe the most natural course of action is for her to die in battle."

"Highly unlikely." The words escaped before he could prevent them. Buffy showed a remarkable ability for getting out of trouble when it looked like all was lost.

"My thoughts as well. Unfortunate so brilliant a fighter should be a lost cause." He sighed with false sadness, then his voice hardened dramatically, "You say nothing of this. Or on your own head be your fate."

Wesley's throat tightened in anger and fear. "I understand."

"Excellent. Now, I've considered many possibilities, but there's only been one being in the world who has had consistent success in killing Slayers. Oh, any vampire can have a lucky moment, any demon can catch one unawares, it only takes one time. But to have killed two, and hunted a dozen with such expertise," Travers closed his eyes and sat down, "it's fortunate he's in London at the moment. I'll have my associates track him down, we'll have him to California in several days time."

Wesley cocked his head. "You don't mean you're going to ask some demon to attack her?"

"No, Pryce. Not just 'some demon'. William the Bloody. I believe he's also known as _Spike_."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: I've played with the end of the season three timeline a little bit, nothing major, just bigger lapses of time between the "episodes"._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season three's dialogue will be used._

_Dedicated to: Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Sirius120, Lyzybelle, ShyL, SushiBar, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, ammuna, rororogers, Touch the Dark, and ValidescopeWest._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part II**

_Five days until graduation..._

"I've nothing to say to you. Leave my flat before I give you another fencing lesson." Giles leaned on the doorframe, barring the other Watcher.

"Please listen to me." Wesley said with a frantic shake of his head, fingers and foot pushing their way into the rapidly closing door.

There was a note in his voice, something- real. The younger man seemed to hide behind his books- and well he knew that guise, and said things as if always being overheard by an imaginary audience of critics. Too precise, too neat, too afraid to show real emotion except under extreme duress. "What is it?" The door swung wide, and the man in a creased suit fell through it. "If this is some plot to help me hand Buffy over to Travers-"

Wesley laughed hysterically and loudly, eyes crinkled shut then opened wide. "Oh... oh you've no idea."

"Have you been hit on the head?" Giles took his arm and pushed him onto the couch.

"In a manner of speaking, I've had a bomb dropped on me." Wesley gave him a glassy eyed stare as the mirth dropped away. "Sit down, Mr. Giles."

"I'll stand."

"You'll need to sit. _Rupert_."

Uneasily, Giles sat, and listened in growing rage and horror as Wesley repeated word for word what Travers had said.

* * *

"You honestly expect me to believe this? Any of this?" Only Giles did believe it, with unpleasant certainty. "You're Travers' pet, a snot nosed little simp, hanging on every word and every rule ever issued. Why would he tell you, involve you? You're a coward, Pryce. You'd never lift a hand against a Slayer."

"He told me _because_ I'm a coward. He knows what this job means to me, what my family would do if I was ever embroiled in a scandal. I stand to lose everything if I don't play along, and I told you- he doesn't want me to do anything but fawn over him." Wesley answered with honesty that bruised his ego and his soul, but he didn't care. "He thinks I'm too much of a coward to stand up to him. It's not me he wants to fight her, he'll have William the Bloody take on Buffy."

"Well, there's no need to worry then, is there?" Giles poured himself a Scotch with shaking hands. "Buffy can handle Spike."

"Then there'll be another one. And another one. He's not right, Rupert! He's not the same man who was our teacher and our leader! He's realized he's lost control of his empire and he'll do anything to regain it!"

Giles paused, then poured a second glass. "You seem to have that figured out fairly well." He muttered with a hint of suspicion.

"You've met my dear father, haven't you?" Wesley smiled bitterly.

Giles smiled too, the first genuine smile he'd ever spared the nitwit, the nancy with his old school tie and his lackluster humanity. "To fathers- may God have mercy on their sons."

"Amen." Wesley drained the glass, and then spent several moments being red-faced and gasping. "Potent."

"Isn't it?" Giles sipped his reflectively. "He's coming for her? When?"

"Immediately after graduation."

"Providing we live through it. If she fails, Travers gets his wish."

"Sobering really. We may all be dead in a few short days."

"He knows Buffy will find a way. She always does." Her true Watcher said with quiet conviction.

"Well, not _always_. Be fair, she must've died at least once, or we wouldn't have a second Slayer." Wesley slurred slightly, the effect of strong drink on an empty and unfamiliar stomach.

"You'd think the bastard would be content to wait." Giles growled, deep bitterness for himself and his former boss, for thinking about inevitable ends, coming all too soon.

"Mm." Wesley made a noncommittal noise, and his brain spun.

Giles cocked his head, and sloshed his drink into a little whirlpool at the bottom of his glass, replaying the conversations of the last half hour. "By George, I think I've got it." He gave a sudden devious smile.

"Got it? Got what?"

"He wants Spike to kill her, does he? What if she's already dead by the time he arrives?"

* * *

"We'd like to offer you a proposition." A toneless voice, sotto voce but threatening, made its way from the back of the dank alley in dockland, up through the ring of men, and into a pale ear.

"Your boys have a stake to my chest, and it's eight against one, I think I'll listen." Spike snarled at the man who stood in the shadows._ Gotta get out of this. It does't end like this. No mobs. No alleys. Certainly not gonna die while some pally in a suit looks on._ His muscles were slowly tensing, ready to rip and shred, til none were left. Then he could make his way down to the pub, bask in the punk rock shines where he first heard The Clash, and maybe drink a cute waitress after last call.

"We want you to take a phone call."

_All this for a soddin' phone call?_ He sneered, "Your answering machine on the fritz again?"

The emotionless voice challenged him. "That is the first part of this scenario. Will you listen? We can kill you now if you won't."

"Oh let's see..." Spike was a flash of leather and dodged crossbow bolts, though he caught one in the kidneys and bugger did that hurt. Probably hurt worse for the man who shot him though, as the wounded vampire reached back, yanked the shaft out and plunged it into his assailant's neck. Screams and grunts faded, until only one man remained standing, a no longer emotionless man, a man sweating fear and clutching a mobile phone. He was no longer the farthest from the vampire either, he was face to face. Demon to human.

Spike snarled and let his yellow eyes scorch into the pallid, fearful face. "I really don't like threats." He curled his bloodied fist around the collar of the neatly pressed trench coat. "Not unless _I _make 'em."

"William, we-"

"Call me Spike." He gave an unpleasant little smirk. "Suits me, don't you think?"

"Yes, Spike, we- we'll leave you. Just grant us passage and-"

Spike's smirk turned into a hideous smile, vampiric ridges doubly ridged as cruel fangs showed. "So funny when you're scared. All you are is big bullies. Eight on one." He shook his head and made a clicking reprimand with his tongue. "Love bein' a vamp. See, all the sudden, you only need to be _one_ person and you can stand up to all sorts of bullies." He made a lightening strike and watched the man flinch- but he was only taking the phone from his hand. "Did you think I was going to hurt you?" Spike pouted.

"No, of course not." The man let out a nervous little whinny.

"Then you're bloody stupid." His free hand slammed the middleman face first into the brick wall, breaking his nose as well as several teeth, and effectively knocking him unconscious. "Have a thing about bein' picked on." He told the still figure with an sinister leer. His voice became a mockery of explanation. "My therapist says I have 'emotional baggage'. He sneered before casually placing the phone to his ear, leaning complacently against the wall in the alley riddled with unmoving, perhaps dead, bodies. "Hello." He said affably, a smirk on his face.

"Is this the vampire?" A mellow, unflappable voice greeted him.

"Is this the piece of shit who sent eight men to do his dirty work?" He countered.

"Ah, Mr. Bloody."

He snorted. "Please, Mr. Bloody is someone's father- at least when I get done with him. You might want a few ambulances to come pick up your boys. I'm hungry but I think three in a sitting is my limit."

The voice paused, but continued evenly. "We'll do that. Once we've concluded our business. Can we be overheard? I gave orders that you were to take this phone call privately."

"Don't think anyone is any shape to hear." Spike suddenly felt intrigued. "Don't your little lackeys know what you want? You send men along to die in vain?"

"It's their job, and I prefer secrecy." Travers said dismissively. "You've successfully killed slayers in the past."

"Damn tabloids," he tsked sarcastically, "yeah, I have. What of it?"

"We'd like you to do it again."

Well. That was new. Spike looked at the dense clouds overhead and shrugged.

"So would I, but I have a little problem with the current slayer. She won't seem to let me." He deadpanned.

"Perhaps you haven't been trying your hardest." The voice hinted. "You made deals with her. Twice."

Hackles up, Spike spat, "Don't insult the man you ask for favors. That was more of a matter of professional courtesy, common goals."

"Do you have a common goal now?" The speaker inquired, searching for a reason for the vampire's reticence.

"Yes." Spike answered firmly. "Never to lay eyes on each other again."

Another tactic was needed. "Kill her and we'll grant you a life long pass. Slayers will not hunt you."

"First, I don't work on commission. I'm not 'fang for hire'. Second, don't matter if they hunt me or not, none of 'em have ever killed me. Check your facts, it's two to nothin' my favor, with one away game tie." His eyes narrowed, and he decided to confirm the idea he had. "Third- who are you to speak for the slayers?"

"I am their leader." Travers stated pompously.

_Head Slayer? Oh, the old git must be that stuffed shirt, what's his face- Travers, Danvers, whatever._ "Well, I'd be offin' you, what kind of 'leader' tries to frag his own men? Girls." He amended.

Damn creature. "In addition to this promise, we can offer a very sizable sum of money."

Spike polished his black fingernails on his coat. "Don't need money. I get money pretty damn easy."

"Don't make us resort to threats." The voice turned dangerous. "We know you have one vulnerability. Long dark hair, beautiful blue eyes, willowy little figure?"

Spike's throat tightened. Bullies. Pillocks. Filth. He hid his fear under a scoff. "You mean my ex? Read your gossip column, been broken up since last summer. Oh we took a stab at making up, but nothin' to report."

_Drusilla! What in the - you said we were past this!_

_ Don't be sad William, I only want him for an afternoon. He has such a pretty tail, and you have none..._

Threw him out, she cried, she prattled, and it was back. Stupid visions, still "covered in her". First the chaos demon and then, even after a month of being reunited, he left for the night to come back and find her snogging something red and demonic. He'd kill to have her back. He'd die to protect her. But it was bloody pointless acting like she was his lover anymore, 'cause she'd been gone for months, hightailed it on her own.

"Why do you want rid of your old Slayer anyway?" Spike demanded. "She hurt you, go against you?"

"Aren't you known for you violence, your blood cravings, your hunting of Slayers? Why are you asking pointless questions!?" Travers hissed.

"Humor me. I'm a dangerous man." Spike gave a snide laugh.

"She will not obey orders."

"Uh- _no_, prolly why she's lasted about four years." He grinned, thinking of that human-sized grenade, barely a sip for a hungry vampire, and she set the world on its ear more times than he could count. The grin faded. _Upset my world plenty, that's for damn sure._

"The Slayer is _our_ concern. We have no use for this one, and _you do_. Refuse to help and you'll become our primary target once we're finished with Ms. Summers."

_Pft. Yeah, real scary. Help, help the men in tweed are after me, they'll beat me with their rolled umbrellas! _"So the girl's done nothin' wrong? Hasn't done somethin' kill-worthy?"

The voice sighed impatiently. "She has outlived her usefulness, but as long as she exists, there's no replacement. Dead man's boots, I'm afraid."

"Ah. So this useless girl, fightin' her guts out on the Hellmouth- Oh, and let me tell you, she's small but scrappy, I'd have her on my side any day, y'know, if she'd come to the dark side." He chuckled, hiding the mounting anger he felt. "Fightin' the good fight, never turned against you, never harmed you, never caught her in bed with some other 'Council', never had her pop off for the weekend and come back after havin' been slayin' for someone else... you're just _tired _of her? You want someone new?"

_Stupid vampires. You can't expect them to see anything but the most simplistic of pictures._ "In short, yes."

"You know, forget about evil, people like you are the reason this world is such a bloody mess! No loyalty, no love! You take and you take and you get what you want, and you never have a damn reason to complain, and what do you do? You want somethin' new!" He rambled, beginning to pace among the bodies on the ground. "Oh the old one is just great, but a new one'd be fun, never mind the old one has devoted his entire existence to keepin' her happy and safe, loves her more than his own life, an' -you make me sick." Spike stopped abruptly. He was panting hard and he turned to calm himself, phone to his chest, taking deep, unneeded breaths, distressed, angry human face back to the forefront. He caught one figure with its eyes opened, but it quickly closed them. "Smart move." He muttered grimly.

He turned his attention back to the phone. "The answer is _no._ I hate people who do what you do. Go on, make me a target. You've lost eight people tonight. You can lose eight more, eighty more, eight dozen more for all I care, every time you send someone near me." He hung up the phone, and cracked his knuckles. "Sorry you lot. B'lieve me, you're better off goin' now, before you turn into shit like that."

With an almost regretful look, the demon rose to mask his handsome face. The phone fell to the concrete and cracked as he bent to retrieve his first "message" to the council.

He lunged, and bit, and broke, ignoring the sounds of sirens coming in the distance. He pulled himself up on window ledges, and perched in the dark rooftops, watched them bag and cart off Council henchmen.

_Ha. Good guys indeed. Self-serving is what. Bastards. _ A nagging little thought trailed him all the way back to his flat, giving him no peace.

_She doesn't deserve this._

_ Slayer's good. _Actual _good. Better than ever probably, since she was smart enough to get out from under that lot. She'll handle them._

_ Unless they take someone she loves. That's still a real threat for her. Maybe they'll take the Poof, wouldn't that be beautiful?_

_ But she doesn't deserve this. _

_ Oh yeah, she oughta die- but because she went down fighting. Not because it's time for a replacement. She's the best I've ever seen, a true fighter, and they want cannon fodder. Resourceful, smart, knows how the hell to fight and get the job done, and they want some little twit who obeys orders._

_ What the hell is wrong with people? You do better than anyone'd ask for, you do more, you save the bloody world and do they thank you? No! They run off, chasin' after somethin' new. You know, you win any way you can, and do they see that? Do they care? We don't bloody deserve this. I mean, _she_ doesn't._

* * *

"I don't need this. Giles, please tell me there's some ancient doohickey you can invoke that says I only have to deal with _one_ crisis at a time. I have to- pardon me for sounding all full of myself- save the WORLD! Someone can try to kill me later and I'll kick his ass, okay? I'll even do it with proper posture and I promise I won't be thinking lyrics to Gloria Estefan songs when I do it! Please?"

Giles blinked, polished his glasses, and pulled her back into a sitting position on his sofa, scooting nearer to her. "This is not a joke, Buffy." His eyes were sad and deep, and he was retaining his grip on her hands.

"Oh." Her lower lips wobbled. So much had been so serious, for so long. But she'd never seen him look like that. Never. The closest she'd ever seen was the night of her eighteenth birthday. _Travers was in it then, too. Seriously hate that guy._ "I can't think about this right now. I'm still trying to work out that weird dream I had, the one with Faith, and the stuff Anya said... plus trying to get the seniors to help and Mom to leave town..." She pulled her hands free so she could flex her fingers on her knees. "I might die. For real."

"So might we all- but that's a risk you take battling evil." He fidgeted with the spine of a book laying on the coffee table. "It is not a risk you should be exposed to, willfully and maliciously, by some short sighted, selfish little cretin son of a-" He stopped abruptly and cleared his throat.

"Whoa. Giles. You drink tea with that mouth?" Buffy managed a small grin.

So did he. "I should've known after he insisted on letting the Cruciamentum occur. Dammit, I should've fought my dismissal, I should've-"

"I think I should've just killed him. But that makes us the bad guys, huh?" She leaned her forehead wearily to his shoulder. "I don't think I can fight anymore sometimes. Like maybe I need a week off?" She whispered pitifully. "Faith, then Angel, the Mayor, the ascension, now- my boss _really_ wants me whole new levels of fired... I'm still working out plans to stop the big demon spectacular at graduation, how am I supposed to figure out how to fight Spike, too? Not that I'm worried about him- it's him, and then the next one, then the next one- until it's over." Her voice broke.

Her mentor heaved a deep sigh. "That's why I want you to let me handle this. Just this one battle. It's a matter of stealth, of connections, of keeping yourself safe and letting us work."

"I can't let you guys fight my battles." She shook her head.

"Why not? We ask you to fight ours." He summed up neatly. Eyes locked. Small, grateful smiles, going both ways.

"Thank you." Buffy whispered.

"Anytime." He became brisk. "You tell no one- yet. And we won't be telling everyone."

"Telling them what exactly?"

"A very sketchy plan I have, that is still missing a few pieces. But listen to me. You take care of the mayor- and tell us what you need as you need it. This part I can handle."

"Why aren't _you_ the head of the Watcher People?" Buffy wiped at suddenly full eyes.

"Me? Heavens no. You wouldn't want me to die a premature death would you, sealed upright in a tweed coffin?" He raised one eyebrow.

"I knew you weren't that stuffy. Ripper."

"Hush!" He blushed and rose from the couch. "Act normally as you can, and stay away from Wesley."

"No problem."

"The less you two seem to cooperate, the more Travers will assume Wesley is still playing on his team."

She hesitated. "Not that I'm not enormously grateful to him for tipping us off- but do you really think we can trust him?"

"I do." Giles nodded. "He didn't have to tell us at all, if he wanted to cooperate with Travers, but he did. Still," he gave her a sly look, "he needn't know _everything_."

"Friends close, enemies closer deal?"

"Not exactly. I'd like to stick with friends first." Giles left the flat with her, and outside the safety of his home, they spoke no more about it.

* * *

"I'm sorry to interrupt a quiet evening at home." Giles let Angel show him into the living area of the dilapidated mansion.

"No, please, you're welcome any time." Angel eagerly welcomed him, his ever present guilt ten times more powerful in the presence of the only living victim of his tortures, a man who still helped him after the fact. "What's uh- what can I do for you?"

"Do you trust me?" Giles kept his hands resting casually in his pockets, fingers touching a bottle of loosely corked holy water.

"Are you kidding me? Of- of course I do." Angel touched his hollow chest lightly. "You've helped me, you've protected Buffy, forgiven me, you've-"

"No. I've never forgiven Angelus. You are given a small measure of grace, because I don't believe you've forgiven him either." Giles replied with an icy smile.

"No." Angel spoke from his chest. "Never."

"Moving on." Giles refused to sit, and the two stood, facing off awkwardly, Angel's large frame hunched in partial shame, head on his chest, eyes upward._ Oh heavens. That guilty puppy look, as Willow would say. Well good, I probably don't need to use it, but the guilt angle may come in handy._ "I am about to tell you something that you must not divulge. Ever. If you care anything for Buffy, you will take this to your grave. Em. Second time around."

"Third." Angel muttered. "But I understand. This is- what is this?"

"Buffy needs to leave town. At the end of the graduation ceremony, she needs to be gone, far from here, maybe for a week, maybe for a few months."

"Why?" Angel looked stunned. "She's starting college in September, she's going to visit her father this summer- if he can make it back from Europe."

Giles decided to speak plainly- as he could. "Travers has gone mad, and decided to get himself a new slayer to work with."

"But you can only call a Slayer if one -"Angel's eyes widened. "No. _No_. It'll never happen. I won't let it happen. Buffy can fight anything, she- she's a natural survivor."

"I agree. And I'm glad you feel that way." Giles licked his lips. "The only way to buy us some time before they track her down, and force her to fight, is to have her presumed dead. It'll take a few days before the Council realizes no potential Slayers have been called, and then pick up her trail."

"Fake her death? Giles you can't be serious!"

"In a few days time there will be nothing left of the high school but smoking rubble. If you cannot imagine one dead body, burnt to nothing but ash in its depths, then you weren't in hell long enough." Giles spat fiercely. "I've had hours to plan, you've had moments to digest. Don't argue with me. _Help_ me. If you ever loved her, if you ever wished you could apologize for the pain you caused her- save her life now."

"Anything. Of course, anything. Just tell me what to do."

"Get her out of the city. I want to go myself, but I know I'm not strong enough to fight the kind of assassins he'd hire. I haven't quite worked out where and how, but she'll need someone to watch her back. I- I have an idea about who Travers plans to send. Initially." _You don't need to know that- not until closer to the time. I don't need any grudge matches stirred up, no vendettas, I need her _hidden. "But he won't stop when the first one fails. He must be senile to consider this method at all, and a man in the grip of madness isn't stopped after the first failure." Giles finally stopped to breathe.

Angel filled the gap with two words. "I can't."

"Can't what?"

"I can't- go with her. Giles, I'm leaving town as soon as the battle ends. She knows that. We're- we're not a couple anymore."

Giles blinked. Frowned. Polished. "I'm sorry, I'm confused. On many points, but let me deal with the simplest and most asinine first." He glared. "You came to dance with her at her prom. You kept that beautiful girl waiting until the very last dance, then showed up, to give her what she'd been dreaming of since she was a freshman."

"I owed her that much."

"I see, a dance is acceptable, but not saving her life? Small favors only?" The gall in his voice made Angel back up nervously.

"We- a clean break isn't always possible."

"No. No, see a 'clean break' would've meant she let you die when Faith poisoned you. Instead, she bloodied her hands and then when she failed to procure Slayer blood from Faith, she let you drain her to the point of near death."

"I didn't want to!"

"I'm fairly bloody certain she didn't want to either!"

"She's stubborn!"

"A good thing for you, you ungrateful louse!" Giles was shouting, but knew that was most unwise in the circumstances. His voice dropped to a hiss. "She saved your life not three days ago! You can't return the favor?"

"It's too dangerous!"

"Letting you drain her blood was pretty damn dangerous but you didn't mind!"

Angel spun on his heel, paced, and finally came back, speaking in a low urgent voice. "I can't keep stretching this out. Don't you know how tempting it would be, having nothing but the two of us, running, fighting, shielding her, _alone_? The danger and the thought that every second might be the last, and just that urge to comfort and give in, to hell with what happens next? You don't understand, you've never loved someone like I love her! Like I can't stop wanting her, craving her, can barely stand being the same room with her without-" He flushed as best he could on borrowed blood, chocolate eyes black with a mixture of passion and anger. "You can't understand."

"No. I had only just found the woman I was in love with. It was new." Giles whispered bitingly. Angel backed up again, head down. "Oh don't stand there, cowering. You preach redemption, do a bit of it! I should be able to join you in a matter of weeks, I'm not asking you to take her abroad for a seven year mission!"

Angel looked up, brown eyes melting sadly. "I'm not strong enough. Are you happy? I admit it. I have a weakness and she's it."

"Then protect her, she seems to be the only thing you actually feel for!"

"I can't! It will start with me being the hero, and end up with me being her killer! Do you want that? Do you want to worry that we'll be in hiding for two weeks, and suddenly she'll be running from whatever goons are after her,_ and_ Angelus?"

"I didn't think, given the choice of her life, or your need for a good wank-" Giles said, deliberately coarse and not giving a damn, "that you'd pick your lusts."

"I don't think I would either. But I don't think I like my odds." Angel murmured, stoniness in his deep voice.

The Watcher collected himself. "Very well. Say nothing until after graduation. Act as if you know nothing."

"Listen, please. Don't you know it's hard for me, too? But it'd be worse for her. It'd give her the wrong ideas, it's just giving her false hope that one day we'll be together, and I know it can't be like that." Angel tried to explain. "It's kinder this way."

"Fine." He nodded once. "It's everything you say. Now then-"

"Rupert, I don't want you to think-"

"_Now then_," Giles continued forcefully, jaws locked angrily, "as I was saying, you must not reveal anything I've said, to anyone. Not even the others, it's all got to be timed perfectly, and the more people who know, the more dangerous it is. I trust your 'weakness' doesn't extend to your ability to moodily keep silent and hold secrets?" They exchanged a look. "Of course not, what was I thinking?"

"Go on, mock. I deserve it. I may be weak, but I'd rather know my limitations than push to the point where she's the one who's broken."

Silently, Giles conceded the brooding vampire had a point. "Say nothing. When graduation is completed-"

"I'm leaving. When the battle is done. I won't say goodbye. I'm just going to be gone." Angel murmured.

The Watcher's tone dripped disgust. "You really are a priceless fool, aren't you? I think I'm beginning to hate you as much for what you're about to do to her as for what Angelus did to me." Giles stormed away from him, quiet genius already formulating a back up plan.

* * *

_ She needs someone who would stand half a chance of holding off Spike. Someone with Slayer strength, or near to. A demon. A vampire. A good one, obviously. Precious few of those. A witch would- no, Willow leaving when Buffy leaves would arouse too much suspicion. They'd follow her movements. Both could "die" in an explosion at the ceremony, but the Rosenbergs would never cooperate. No. _

_ Xander. He's supposed to see America. He'd fight to the death for her. And subsequently die. Quickly._

_ I need to be the one. And they'll watch me every second. Leaving to deal with my loss is acceptable, of course. But no one leaves immediately. There's the "memorial service" to hold. The flat to pack, affairs to settle- making it look like I'm gone. If I'm gone I can't help Wesley collect the evidence, and say what he likes, Wyndham-Pryce's have nowhere near the standing the Giles family commands among the Watcher community. _

His feet seemed to take him places of their own accord, not home, not to the hospital, or to homes of any of the young friends he'd made, certainly not to Wesley's place. Secrecy dictated nothing out of the ordinary. He went to an infrequently visited place, but not someplace that would draw attention. A pub off the beaten track, in a nicer part of town, a place that served actual proper bitter.

Giles went in, ordered a pint, and stared into it.

_Strong. Fighter. Good. To hell with good, willing to defend her. A mercenary even. And pay him with what? And prevent Travers, with the huge pockets of the Council's trust behind him, from paying him more to be a turn coat? Unlikely. _

Oddly enough, the only face that kept inserting itself into his mind's eye was Spike's. An amazingly ruthless fighter, and cunning, willing to make truces with the Slayer when it suited him. But only when it favored his own goals.

Very specific, self-motivated goals. Escape death. Exchange Angelus for Drusilla. Exchange the lives of the people in the Sunset Club for Drusilla. Exchange Willow and Xander's lives for a love potion to restore his relationship with Drusilla.

Travers would have already approached him by now, the vampire being in London, if Wesley understood Travers correctly. Spike wasn't an option, never was.

_Nothing I can use. _Giles shook his head. Spike might not be the best choice after all, considering a few pertinent facts. For all his cunning, he was piss poor about letting himself get hurt. _That creature-_ he shivered, remembering the feel of Drusilla's lips and her hands raking his hair and his chest, under the guise of being Jenny- _that creature used whatever man she wanted, even just as a mere moment's plaything._ Angelus was only one example of her changeable wants, but reading the Black Chronicles showed she was never what you'd call faithful.

_So there's no bargain to be had, because I certainly don't have time in five- hell, after midnight, _four _days to go out and catch her, secure her, and offer her as a pawn in this living chess match. Not that he'd want her for certain, after all she's done to him._

Angel's selfishly unselfish words were chasing around his mind, his refusals, his denials...The man who really loved her ought to protect her._ I'd have bet money Angel would leap at the chance to protect her, if for nothing more than mere atonement for hunting her once._ Giles found himself feeling a momentary comparison in Spike's favor. At least Spike stood by his woman. Or had in the past. Perhaps that had ended now, and even having a captured Drusilla, a faithless, raving Drusilla, would mean nothing to him, be worthless in persuading him.

_Unless... _His eyes unclouded, as did his mind. _Unless I can give him something Travers can't._

There was a pay phone in the corner of the pub, and Giles went to it, muttering a protective and obscuring spell as he went, drawing snickers from patrons who assumed he was drunk. He dialed a number, a number he tried ardently to forget but never managed to, with shaking hands.

"Half Seas Over." A thickly accented voice answered.

The number of his old pub was still the same. "It's- it's Ripper."

"Ripper?"

"New, are you?" His accent changed, slipped into something more abrasive. "Look, I'm wonderin' if you ever get a bloke called Spike in? Pale, pasty, over done it on the heavy metal look?"

"Sorry, mate, we get tons of 'em. Spike don't ring a bell."

"Take this number down for me and stick on the slate, will you? R. seeks Spike." He gave the pay phone's number.

"We're not a bleedin' lonely hearts column, mate."

"Leave it up for four days, that's all. If Gus," he mentioned the owner's name, "gives you trouble, tell him it's for- Rayne." He improvised at the last moment, suddenly glad Ripper and Rayne shared an initial. "He'll understand that." He repeated the number and names again, and hung up. Looking around furtively, he began to mumble again. A simple spell of pathways. He pushed the keys of the pay phone's extension, followed by his home number. Any call meant to go to that pay phone would come to his home phone. He might be getting a lot of wrong numbers in the next four days, but he didn't care. He had to try to reach Spike, and cover his tracks at the same time.

* * *

_Three days before graduation..._

The nagging thoughts never left him. Gave him no peace. Backstabbing, blindsiding, betrayers. He knew a bit about all those b-words. Bitch went before and after them, in both cases. Sons of, or just plain bitch, considering the situation.

"I won't get involved. Not my style. Just a warning. That's all. If they want to make her fight, she'll fight. She'll probably win, God knows she can level the field when people cheat." He smirked, remembering the slew of dirty tactics he'd used. "Bloody well levels buildings." His smirk disappeared. "But give the girl a chance!"

He picked up the phone in the flat he was using, at least until someone realized the owner of the flat was dead. "I need the overseas directory... America... California... Sunnyhell. Sunnydale! Sorry, Sunnydale. Giles. G-I-L-E-S. No, California, in the United bleedin' States. Yes, I'll hold..."

* * *

Giles dragged himself from his sleep. It was only moments since he'd laid down, or so he felt. He looked at his watch, still on his arm, he hadn't bothered to undress. _Four AM._ _Buffy. _He stumbled from his loft bedroom to the desk downstairs. "Really must put a phone by the bed. Been saying it for three years, really must. Hello?" He answered with as much alertness as he could manage.

"You're hell to find through directory services. Although maybe that's just British Telecom."

No need to manage the alertness now, it was bursting from him. "Thank heavens. Someone got through to you?" _That was quick. Too quick. _

It was Spike's turn to be jarred into heightened awareness. "You can't tell me you want this!"

"You're the only one I can think of to help with the situation- which I know you're already aware of. Angel refuses on grounds of moral temptation."

"Well of course he does, he loves her! What the fuck is wrong with you? I watched you back her up, you're a white hat to the core! You backed her to the hilt! How can you think of lettin' this happen, and of usin' him? Of course he's not gonna bloody kill her!"

"Kill her? _Angel_? What nonsense are you spouting? And why am I getting your verbal abuse?"

"Your lot already called me last night, want me to be the hatchet-man, or fang-man, I guess. Never thought you were like them."

Giles gasped, then laughed.

"I don't see the humor."

"I've got every shady source who frequents one of the blackest pubs in London trying to find you, trying to get you to call me. I know Travers had the same idea- for a very different reason. From your phone call, I gather you only know half the story."

"I don't want the bloody story, I was- merely doin' her a good turn, since I think she deserves to die in a more fitting manner than being done in by a stuffed suit with an obsession for controlling the biggest power in the world, since he doesn't have any himself, the little wanker."

"Your assessment of Quentin Travers is admirably accurate." Giles said dryly.

"Oh, I know people." He left a gap in the conversation, unable to simply do the tip off and hang up now. Now that he knew there was more to the story. "So you heard. He's gonna try to off your girl."

"Yes, I heard. I won't allow it." The voice became guarded. "What is your interest in this?"

"Like I said, they asked me to be the one to flip the switch."

"Calling to give us a head start?" Giles' fingers tightened on the receiver.

"Turned him down. I'm all for mindless violence and pointless killing, but not this one. Rubbed me wrong, what can I say?" It was his turn to be wary. "Why're you looking for me?"

"I have a proposition for you."

"Oh, not another one..."

"Mine is different. I know you've made compromises with Buffy for the sake of something mutually beneficial. I have a plan. I obviously don't trust you, and for all I know Travers could be sitting there, coaching you on what to say."

"Yeah, good point."

The fact that he didn't deny it made Giles continue, still treading carefully of course. "I would like someone with above normal strength, reflexes, speed, etc, to help me protect Buffy. Indefinitely." _If Travers is there, mustn't let him know we're aware this is his pet project, not the will of the full Council._

"And you thought of me?" Spike smiled. Then sniggered. Then had to let the phone fall to the table as he laughed helplessly. "_Me_?_ Help_ her? "

He sighed patiently and continued. "You. Angel is unable to trust himself in the situation I have in mind."

"And what would that be?"

"I'll explain once you arrive, if you accept the offer."

"Which I'm sure I won't. Already been offered money, protection, and a nice array of threats. Told the haughty old git I don't work for people, I do whatever the hell I please, no matter what they offer."

"Have you been offered Menfra's Eye?" Giles smiled, and ran his hand over his small leather curio case of mystical items, resting on the desktop.

"Never heard of it." Spike's ears pricked up though.

"Menfra was the Etruscan goddess of wisdom and the arts- in short, she was a goddess of the mind. She was also the goddess of healing. Menfra's Eye, a talisman set with a stone the same color as her irises, is said to channel her powers."

"Sounds like a pretty little bauble, but-"

"Say you know someone who's been through a lifetime of tortures and heartaches, slowly going mad, broken in her mind..." He let it hang tantalizingly in the air.

_My Dru._ "Say you did."

"With Menfra's Eye, you can return a person's mind to an unshattered, whole state. You can literally 'heal the mind'. No matter how fragmented. And there are only two such the talismans in existence. I have one, that I'm prepared to part with, if the -erm- exchange is right."

"You think you've got me. Dru and I aren't together anymore, Librarian. Everyone thinks she's my weakness, but she's nothin' to me now." He lied with a forced laugh.

"Is she now? Pity. Since with this 'pretty little bauble' you could repair her psyche back to the sweet innocent young woman she was, before Angelus tortured her to madness, before Darla and Angelus taught her their heart-fickle ways. Even back to the point where she didn't have such strong feelings about her 'dear daddy'. Perhaps back to the point where she could truly understand devotion,who knows, even fall in love?" He had laid it all out there, every promise he could think of, exploited the one weakness fully- if only he'd take the bait...

"You're not a white hat after all." Spike growled softly into the phone. "Playing games..."

"I'm in a battle to keep someone I love alive. I'll fight dirty if I have to. But this is a sincere, and considerably above board offer. You help me keep Buffy safe- you get the Eye. A few days, or maybe a few months, of service weighed against an eternity of undead bliss with a happy, healthy, whole woman."

A pause. _I've done everything a man can do for a woman, an' she doesn't really love me._ He spared himself a single moment of honesty. _But only 'cause she doesn't know how, 'cause she can't, too broken. I could change it. I could have her back. No, I could _have her,_ truly, for the first time ever. _"I'll be on the next plane."

"Hurry. Graduation is in three days."

He didn't know why that mattered. He didn't care. "I'll be there. You better explain."

"You better not be jerking me about." The voice changed, harsher, thicker. Spike didn't recognize it for a moment.

"I'm not."

"Nor am I." The voice was back to its normal perfunctory crispness. "Make sure you're not followed. Once you're in town, let me know. Discreetly."

"Will do."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: I've played with the end of the season three timeline a little bit, nothing major, just bigger lapses of time between the "episodes"._

_Author's Second Note: plot heavy, detail oriented chapter. But you know me. I set everything up first, and then... Boom._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season three's dialogue will be used._

_Dedicated to: Alexiarrose, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Sirius120, Lyzzybelle, ShyL, SushiBar, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, ammuna, rororogers, Touch the Dark, Skeezixx, ValidescopeWest, Mike13z50, Rachel, Jackiemack916, Sanityfair1, Cavemenftw, and Jedi SteelWolf._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part III**

_Three days before graduation, early evening..._

"You know what to do? Everything's going well?"

"Got the knife. I hope it really makes him crazy, because I did _not_ enjoy getting it back."

"I've got the nerds working over time, Cordy says she has the main streamers on alert."

"Sports teams are all 'rah-rah, let's not die'. Oz has the fringe and musicians on board." Willow smiled faintly.

"I've been ordering fertilizer, and the last of the occult books are safely out of the library."

"And I have my overnight bag packed." Joyce put down five cups of steaming chocolate and a plate of cookies in the center of her coffee table.

"Thank you." Giles was the only one who remembered his manners, as the three teens dove into their mugs.

"Mm, sorry Mrs. Summers." Xander swallowed and nodded.

"Thanks." Willow added. Buffy squeezed her mom's hand affectionately.

"So - what's the big?" Xander asked. "I mean, I assumed demon ascension big, but Buffy's face says 'no, worse'."

"How is that possible?" Joyce murmured.

"She's never going to go for this." Buffy hissed to Giles from the corner of her mouth.

"She'll have to. We'll all have to." Giles cleared his throat. "Buffy's being targeted."

"Targeted? Like- 'kill' targeted?" Willow dropped her sugar cookie into her mug.

"By who? I mean- who else? Don't we already have enough people after her?" Xander demanded angrily.

"Totally what I said." Buffy agreed.

"Let's call the police! Oh, it's a vampire or some hell beast, isn't it?" Joyce had risen, and now sat down.

"What it is, is very complicated, and I'm going to give you all very little to go on, for your safety, and Buffy's. You'll have to trust me."

"All the way with the trusting." Willow nodded.

Joyce looked dubious, and moved closer to her child. "What can you tell us?"

"The person who's orchestrating this- is Quentin Travers."

"Bastard!" Xander spat.

"Oh I hate that guy!" Willow clenched her fists.

"Who?" Joyce looked confused.

"Scary vampire test man, Mom."

"Oh. Bastard." Joyce nodded with a tiny, tense smile of agreement at Xander.

"He needs to have her alive until she prevents the ascension, which, well, we have a plan for that at least, and we can only try."

"So not comforting." Buffy hit his knee lightly.

"But as soon as graduation ends- he will set his hired killers on her."

"Who are those?"

"We don't know." _Now that Spike's in our court- I think._ "We only know one sure way to delay this, and give Buffy a chance to run."

"Run? Aren't we fighting?" Xander asked, puzzled.

"It's not the same this time, Xander. They don't want to fight. They want to find me, they don't want me to see them coming, they don't want to battle. All they want is to kill me, so a new Slayer can be called. I mean to the Council, it'll look like another Slayer went down fighting, but it's totally just assassination by demon."

Willow broke the silence that followed that horrifying concept. "Well- not to be all inhuman and stuff, but Faith's _really_ not well. She might never wake up. She's kind of in limbo and... I know it sounds bad, but- couldn't they just wait a few weeks and see if she..." the sensitive girl looked apologetic, "dies? Just a little bit?"

"No." Buffy shook her head, unable to stop smiling at Willow's timid conclusion. "Suit Dude thinks I'm worse than Faith, because I'm still a good guy- but I'm not _his _good guy. It's like now the world is going to wonder if _he's_ the bad guy because I'm not on his team. And hello- trying to murder me. Bad."

"Yes, well, motivations aside, we don't have time to delve into the rationale behind this, or the methodology, anything. We have one chance to let Buffy slip into hiding, unnoticed. During the battle at the high school Buffy's going to sneak away, once the mayor is destroyed, but the area is still in disarray."

"I've seen some near-apocalypses. Disarray is a feature." Xander leaned forward, "So she lays low?"

"Six feet under." Buffy, already having been briefed on the basics of the plan, smiled grimly.

"What?" Joyce rocketed up. "What are you saying?"

"She's saying, 'Why would you send an assassin after a dead person?'." Giles rose as well, speaking calmly. "There's going to be an explosion, Joyce. According to the world, Buffy Summers perished in it, tragically, and her body was not found in the aftermath of the fire."

Joyce looked shocked and ill. "No. No, this is ridiculous, this is unheard of! You can't expect me to pretend my baby girl died and let her go into hiding."

"I can, and I do ask it of you. All of you, and _only _you, not even Oz or Cordelia must know. Not even her father."

"We can't act like Buffy's dead. I'm not that good of an actress!" Willow cried.

"You will rock this. All of you." Buffy, still sitting, said quietly. " 'Cause if they figure out you're faking? I'm going to be dead. For real. And you can have some real grief then, or you can do a big show of fake grief now."

The overwhelming gravity of the situation struck them hard. "You're serious? You- you're going to leave?" Willow whispered, lower lip trembling.

"I'll be back when Giles can get enough evidence to show the rest of the Council that Travers is loony toons. Until then, I'm inviso-gal." Buffy nodded.

"This is terrible." Willow cried. "This is- too much. Buffy, Giles, she's got to stop the Mayor, they can't do this now, this isn't fair!"

"That's what the bad guys do, cheat." Buffy comforted, and Willow dissolved into sobs.

Xander reached over and put his arm around his two best friends. _Man. Soon it'll just be Will and me. There'll be a Buffy sized hole in the group hugging._ He blinked hard, swallowed manfully and cradled them tightly.

"There. Just like that." Giles murmured, own throat suddenly tight. "You two will be very convincing. Joyce, I know that this is the most dreadful thing I can ask you to contemplate, but the alternative is far worse."

Joyce shook her head fiercely. "I'm not going to sit here, not knowing where Buffy is, or if she's safe, if they've found her, if she's-" Joyce winced and shuddered. "I'll go with her."

"Mom, no!"

"Joyce, you can't."

"Don't tell me what to do!" She rounded on Giles. "You're not her parent, _I _am! If it weren't for you and this association of Watchers, she wouldn't be on some - some hit list!"

"Mom." Buffy removed herself from her friends and put her hands firmly on Joyce's tensed shoulders. "If you go with me- they'll have twice as many targets. And then they'll have something they know I'll go after."

"I won't let you. You'll stay safe, no matter what happens to me." Joyce commanded. "You just won't let them draw you out."

"Not gonna happen, Mom. That's how they got to me last time, too." Buffy whispered, smoothing her mom's hair away from her strained face. "On my birthday? The knew, even totally weak and scared, I'd come for you. I'll always do it, you're my _mom_. I can't turn off the heart and use the head when it's family." She sighed and hugged her as Joyce suddenly let out a shaking, misery-drenched noise from the back of her throat. "Same deal with graduation as this. I can't do it- and worry about you." Buffy released her, and Joyce, after a full minute of waiting silence, managed a deep, pain-filled nod.

Xander suddenly sat up straight, pushing Willow gently away. "I'll go. No, wait, listen to me, I can! I've got wheels, you need a get away car, right? Two people can die in a blown up building as easy as one. My parents won't even miss me, I could hide in the same town forever and no one would know, I'm just one of those people you look at and never even see. Those Council guys don't know I'm the sidekick."

"No." Buffy was moved, but firm. "Who're you kidding? Everyone would miss you, you're the wacky fun guy. With much stand-out-ness. The way you dress..."

"What's wrong with the way I dress?" Xander hissed to Willow, who made a completely dishonest shrug, and then refocused himself. "I'm leaving town soon anyway, I can just go sooner. I can-"

"I _said_ I can't do the self-preservation thing when it's family. You and Willow are _totally_ sibs. Ah- no." She raised her eyebrows and put on her best imitation of the Willow resolve face. "You can't leave Willow here alone. Or Mom! Who's going to take care of all of you if I'm- busy?" _Gone_ sounded like such a dirty word right now. "You have to take care of each other. You have to act like a family who's lost a member. Make it look real- or it _becomes_ real."

"Well said." Giles never admired her eloquence in battle situations quite as much as he did at that moment. Articulate, eloquent, moving, and above all- Buffy. _Worth every point of that verbal SAT score. _

"You're not letting her go alone. You've arranged someone to- to go with her?" Joyce managed to croak.

"Yes." Giles assured.

"Who?"

"Someone we all know, who's helped us before." _And tried to kill us before, but let's not mention that just now._ "I think it's safer not to divulge the name. In case."

"Are you sure you can trust this person?" Joyce pressed.

"In this instance, I am sure." _Spike stands to lose as much as we do if he fails_.

"Nothing left to it but to do it." Buffy mustered up a brave smile. "I'll take Mayor's Ascension for five hundred, Giles, you take The Great Escape Daily Double?"

"At least you watch educational programming in some form." He chuckled briefly. "Yes. That'll work. I still have a good many details to work out."

"We have stuff to do with the seniors." Xander nodded.

"I guess I have to pack." Buffy realized. "Just not too much, huh?"

"Nothing that proves you're missing intentionally. Don't take your favorite things, or too many meaningful items, in case they search."

"Search?" Joyce looked suddenly fearful. "Could they do that?"

Giles rubbed his forehead tiredly. "The correct answer is no. But they shouldn't be plotting to kill Buffy either, so I'm going to repeat myself- say nothing to anyone. And remember what we lose if we don't make this realistic, down to every last detail."

* * *

"G-Man, wait up!" Xander scurried out of the Summers' house and into Giles' beaten Citroen.

"Xander-"

"Hey, can you give me a lift?" Xander called loudly, for the benefit of real or imagined stalkers. He sank down and in a whisper asked, "Do you think they're here already?"

"No, but eventually Travers is going to realize Buffy isn't dead when another Slayer isn't called. It'll take a few days, but then he'll have his snoops about, and they're going to try to shake us off the story that Buffy_ is_ dead. We have to believe it, act it, have no flaws in our conviction that she died in the explosion. Otherwise- we become suspects or accomplices in his eyes. If he should have people in the area questioned, they can't say they've seen anything strange about our behavior leading up to her disappearance."

"Uh, Giles? Livin' on the Hellmouth? Slayers, Watchers, and Scoobs? We_ do _strange."

Giles paused. "Good point." He put the car in reverse and backed out of the drive. "Alright then, no actions associated with us helping her fabricate her demise."

"Okay. So- these details you mentioned? What do you need help with?"

"I'm trying to think," Giles took the long way to the Harris household, giving them more time to talk, "the disadvantage of trying to plan an escape and an 'undercover' lifestyle with five days notice is that you have very little time to prepare."

"We can do it." Xander nodded, hands working away nervously, twitching. "She needs wheels. She can have mine. We can say I parked too close to the big boom."

"You're beyond generous, but I want her to be able to get farther than two hours before she needs to do auto repair." Giles chuckled.

"Well, don't give her this tin can then." Xander sniped back.

"Now, now." Giles frowned slightly and patted his steering wheel protectively. "A newer, reliable car- but not one associated with her friends would be the best thing. I'd buy one, but that would look odd and that'd be the first model Travers began to trace."

Xander thought. "Hm. What about some of the other faculty members? Nice rides? Cars that could be conveniently close to the explosion?"

"Yes but then we'd have to maneuver them into parking there and-" Giles' face suddenly changed, something wolfish under the proper exterior. "I promised I'd never do it again, but I suppose in this instance it's allowable. And highly likely."

"Oooh, do what? That's a plotting face. Can I get in on the plotting?" Xander asked.

"No, the less you know the better. About this. I need you to continue with weaponry for the students taking on the mayor. If we don't survive that..."

"Right. Damn, I hate when we do the whole 'two fronts' kind of war on evil. Way more hectic."

"Undeniably."

They turned the corner and Xander's house greeted them. "What else? Money? Place?"

"Money won't be a problem. The place- Lord, I have an idea about the place and I just hope it doesn't fall through."

"How about a way to contact you? Like an untraceable way? Magic mirrors or long distance walkie talkies or something?"

"I never thought of that. I do need to be able to reach her, and they'll probably look at phone records if this drags on."

"Yeah, the dragging on part? How long do you think it'll take before you can nail this guy?" Xander asked quietly.

"I don't know. Wesley's integral in that part." Giles sighed as the car squeaked to a gentle stop at the curb.

"Oh goody. We'll see Buffy when she's fifty." Xander groaned.

"Have a little faith in him. He's not altogether what he seems."

* * *

"It seems the Slayer of Slayers refuses to cooperate. When you receive your new Slayer, she is to hunt him down and exterminate him as the first order of business."

"Set a new, inexperienced girl on William the Bloody?" Wesley exclaimed into the receiver. "Surely that's a job for a girl with a few years practice."

"If she dies in the attempt, we'll have another chance, after all. It's a matter of sending messages. The Council has implicit control over the Slayer. And in addition, not to refuse requests from the Council." Travers sipped his early morning tea and placed the china cup delicately back in his saucer. "Is that clear?"

"Crystal." Wesley watched the tape spooling through the cassette. "If it's not impertinent, Sir, who did you hire instead?"

"I'm still searching for someone. The Order of Taraka won't have anything to do with her, nor will the Brotherhood of the Two Swords. Seems she's made quite an impression on them."

"She's done so much good, Sir." Wesley's voice faltered. "To have three such formidable forces refuse to pursue her must surely mean something."

"Yes. It means she's a renegade, a cowboy. We can't command someone like that, it's only a matter of time until she becomes a law unto herself. It starts small, Pryce, but it grows." Travers sighed. "No matter. I have a few days to find a willing party. Give me an update on her preparations for the ascension."

_Crackers. Completely barking. _Wesley sighed into the phone and began to speak.

* * *

"Hello, Geoff? It's Rupert."

"Good heavens, Rupert! Can it really be you?"

"I'm afraid it is. How've you been keeping?"

"Oh, busy, ridiculously busy." The voice was warm with the faintest trace of a British accent. "I'm on a lecture circuit with the Lakota exhibit now."

"Yes, I saw that." Giles moved his copy of _Archaeology Today_ across the pay phone's box, and tucked it back under his arm. "It reminded me I haven't talked to you since New Year's!"

"Well, one curator to another, I forgive you. Although rumor has it you officially ended your sabbatical and gave notice?"

"I did, last year." Giles looked around him. The pub was quiet, no one was near him, and even if they were, he had cast his obscuring spell once again. And should they somehow hear him anyway, he was talking to one of his so-called normal colleagues, a former associate, a fellow curator at the British Museum, just two old history buffs exchanging pleasantries. So far. "What can I say? The American people have made me feel so welcome."

"I'm not judging! I'm hardly in the prestigious position I was, but the opportunities to study and present findings on indigenous peoples is just so much greater in the States then back home."

"Oh absolutely. In fact, reading about your work in the North Dakota hills made me quite miss you talking my ear off. I was wondering when I could pay you a visit? School's almost out for summer and I'll have some free time."

"I wish you'd called sooner! I just confirmed a lecture circuit through July!"

"Shame." Giles said, internally shouting, "Yes!" "You're not passing through California are you?"

"No, all along the East Coast, I'm afraid. I won't be back to Seattle for months."

"You finally moved into the big city then?" _Damn, there goes that plan._

"Oh, no, I say Seattle, but you know me. I find urban centers so exhausting. I'm still out in Shore Side, an hour south."

_Bingo_. "Such a glorious little town, so- restful." Giles murmured wistfully._ C'mon Geoff... C'mon._

"I don't know how you stand that beastly climate in California. All that unending sun, never a decent fog or more than a sprinkle of rain." Geoff laughed. "Are you flying home this summer?"

"No, I- can't leave right now because- of the renewal process for my visa." He covered.

"You poor bastard." Geoff's voice was instantly sympathetic. "Tell you what, you still have the spare key from when you visited?"

"I've been meaning to pop that back in the post, it's just been such a horrifically busy year, it slipped my mind." Giles said with false exasperation at his own forgetfulness.

"Well, let's call that fate! You feel free to pop in for as long as you want. I know you'll look after the place, and it'll certainly pay you back for letting me use your flat in London when you first left for the 'Golden State'."

"Really, Geoff, I couldn't impose."

"What imposition, Rupert, I won't even be home! Now, say no more about it. I'll tell my neighbors who've been keeping an eye on the place to expect another Englishman in residence. They won't be about, just told them to drive past a few times a week, make sure I wasn't burgled. They'll leave you to your own devices."

"You're the best, Geoff. I'll be happy to return the favor."

"Already have, this is _my_ return favor. Look, I'd better ring off, I have to meet with a dig site committee in the morning."

"Of course, it's very late. Thanks, Geoff."

"My place is your place. Look after yourself, talk to you soon."

"And you."

Giles hung up the phone with a relieved sigh. A quiet townhouse in a mid-sized city full of other quiet little houses, hidden in an area of the state full of other mid-sized cities. Perfection. Travers would never associate him with Geoff, he wasn't part of his life as a Watcher, he was simply someone he'd worked with years ago at the museum, the most casual of acquaintances.

Buffy'd be safe there.

_If she can survive a seventeen hour drive with Spike..._

_ If I can get her a car. What am I saying? _When _I get her a car._

* * *

_Two days until graduation..._

Giles whistled through the faculty lounge, getting himself a cup of coffee. Supposedly. _Who's the likely one, who's the likely one? Always be careful when you pick your mark. _He let his eyes drift casually over the teachers milling through the room before the first bell. _Ah ha. Shiny new keychain, recent model logo, completely and utterly distracted man. _ "Good morning, Mr. Berkley." He addressed the physics teacher sitting at the staff table, his head tucked behind a stack of ungraded finals, squinting through thick bifocals.

"Good morning... Jennings? Jeeves?" Mr. Berkley looked up, mildly confused.

"Giles." The librarian corrected, sitting down beside him.

"Good morning, Mr. Giles." He returned to his answer key and scratched his head.

"Have a good day. Best of luck with your grading." He rested his hand on the table top near the preoccupied man.

"Hm? Yes, yes, a terribly busy week, wasn't it?"

Giles' nimble fingers deftly slid a set of car keys off the edge of the table, into his now empty coffee cup. "Indeed. A terribly, terribly busy week." He walked out, smiling into his mug. Anyone who passed him in the hall, going out or coming in, would report the same thing. He walked in with an empty mug, and walked out sipping from it. Nothing suspicious at all.

Later that day, Mr. Berkley, not entirely focused on details at the best of times, assumed he'd misplaced his car keys. Again. Then he asked Mrs. Berkley to give him lift home at the end of the day.

* * *

Spike lifted the lid of the boot of his "rent a car" and tipped the body neatly into the river. He'd flown into Sacramento the previous night, landing at daybreak, had to lay in wait in the cargo hold, waiting for night to fall. Then to find himself a ride. A ride coming with a free meal and some money for traveling expenses. Now having all three, he got in the car and headed to Sunnydale's city limits.

* * *

"You are so over the limit of what normal people can do." Buffy supported her Watcher as he teetered on the stairs leading to his flat. "Have you slept at _all_?"

"Hm. Yes. A few hours." He confessed. "I'll sleep tonight, I promise."

"More of a promise than I can make." She grinned ruefully.

" Are you packed?" Giles asked softly.

"Yeppers."

"I want you to take this, and keep it somewhere safe." He handed her a bank envelope.

"What is- wow! Giles, are you secretly some rich duke?" She exclaimed, peeking inside.

"No, I'm someone who used to earn two paychecks and live on half of one." He laughed. "That should last you a month- if you're careful."

"A month!"

"I don't anticipate it to take that long. Wesley's gathering evidence as quickly as he can, but it's going to be a matter of discreetly getting reliable members of the Council to help us, without alerting Travers."

"Okay." Buffy tucked the envelope into her pocket for the time being. "So careful means no shoe shopping?"

"No shopping at all, travel light." He winced. "The address I gave you should have everything you need except your clothes- which you'll pack- and food, which you can buy."

"Got it." Buffy was running on pure adrenaline by this point. She bounced anxiously on the balls of her feet, and took a silver key from Giles' outstretched hand. She slid it into the envelope and then sealed it before putting both back in her pocket. "Door key?"

"That's right. And this is a most respected colleague of mine, so please, please, _please_ keep the place in good order."

"Is there cable?"

"This is serious."

"I know. Making with the jokes to avoid thinking about my first encounter with a building sized baddie, my impending real or fake death, and the fact that Angel won't even look at me now, and he's obviously counting down the days until he can blow this Hellmouth-y popsicle stand." She sat down on the couch with a thump. "This is shaping up to be a real sucky summer."

_Well, now's as good a time as any._ "Would you like more bad news? Since you're already upset? Or should I wait until you cheer up slightly?" He sat in the armchair across from her.

"Pile it on. Let me guess. Slaying causes warts?" She asked playfully, nervous inside.

"Your 'bodyguard', for lack of a better word, for this trip."

"I have a _bodyguard_?"

"For all intents and purposes, yes."

"It's a guy? Oh my God, Giles, I can't leave for a month with some strange guy! What if he creeps me out?"

"You know him."

"I do? I thought you just said that to calm my mom down."

"Yes, you know him. I think he does 'creep you out' however, and I regret that. It was the best I could do on such short notice."

Buffy racked her brain. She couldn't think who it could be. "Is he at least hip to the slayage? He knows but he's going to keep a low profile?"

"Almost subterranean."

"What?"

"Yes, he'll make sure he guards your secret. His too."

"He can fight?"

"One of the best and most ruthless."

"I know him? I know a creepy, slay-aware, awesome fighter guy?" Buffy frowned. "Okay, I give up. I don't even want three guesses, who is it?"

Giles considered putting a door between them before telling her, but instead simply prefaced it with, "I assume you trust me?"

"With my life. Literally."

"I have very good reasons- and had very little time." He reminded her.

"Just tell me already." A knot formed in her stomach. "This much build up must equal bad."

"Hrm. Yes. In a manner of speaking." He removed his glasses, then put them back on, looking to the side as he spoke, watching her from the corner of his eye. "Spike."

_Spike. Spike? _Spike? "Spike!?" She shrieked.

"Shhhh!"

"Don't shush me! Spike! Mr.-Pathetic-Kidnapper-I-Miss-My-Bloodsucking-Ho-Bag- Kill-You-On-Saturday-Made-My-Life-Hell-Last-Year-Spike?"

"I believe he prefers if you just call him Spike." Giles shifted uncomfortably.

"Why? Why him? Are we trying to get me killed before Travers can do it, kind of a 'ha ha, we beat you' deal?" She cried.

"You can easily defeat Spike in a battle."

"No, not _easily _! He's good. He's almost as good as me, but he always has one weak spot, Drusilla, to distract him from finishing the job, or I always have someone to help me take him down. What am I supposed to do when it's just him and me, no friends and no weaknesses?" She was up again, pacing angrily.

"He still has a weakness- and I have the key to it." Giles followed her. "I made a bargain with him Buffy, I offered him something he'll never get from anyone else."

"Your Kiss the Librarian mug?" Buffy said sarcastically as she turned to face him, lightening in her eyes. "What makes you think he won't take whatever it is and then double cross you?"

"He doesn't get it until you're home safe."

"What if he doesn't really want it? What is it, anyway?"

Giles debated on telling her all the details, less to contend with when already overloaded but he felt he owed her something. "A chance to save Drusilla from herself. A chance to get her back, and heal her."

"Is she sick?" Buffy was momentarily nonplussed.

"Very much so." Giles muttered grimly.

"Oh. Okay." Well, that was the Spike Song. Do anything for Drusilla, including make truces with your hated enemy number one. "What am I saying, not okay! Never okay! It's Spike! Evil vampire, me slay now." She mimed stabbing something.

"He's an excellent fighter, he's crafty, he has a century of experience in remaining below the radar, as it were, and he's got a chance to earn something he desperately wants and can't get anywhere else." Buffy remained unconvinced, and he couldn't blame her. "He also called me. To warn me. That you were in danger." He added quietly.

"Say what now?" Buffy's jaw dropped.

"He was approached by the Council to take you down. He refused. He called me, to warn me you were being targeted. He felt it wasn't a fair fight."

"He never plays fair."

"But he always fights. This wouldn't have been a fight, it would have been an assassination built to look like a fight, and he didn't want that. He, odd as this sounds, has some sort of respect for you, or your calling at least."

_Wow. Mind trip._ Buffy shook her head. "So what? He also likes to play games. He could have been doing a double bluff on you. 'The Council called me, I said no, surprise, here I am, I lied, I'm really going to kill Buffy'."

"He didn't approach me about assisting you, merely warning you. _I_ approached him about being your second pair of hands and eyes."

Buffy blinked. "Seriously? This was your idea?"

"Can you think of anyone else willing and able to do this?" _Please don't think of Angel._

"Duh! Angel!"

_Of course. Let's make this even more painful._

Buffy punched her fist into her palm for emphasis. "He's everything Spike is, the fighter, knows the deal, able to hide out, except he's _good_ and he would do it without being bribed."

Giles nodded, but didn't meet her eyes.

Buffy's heart gave an unnaturally hard thud. "You don't trust him?"

"That's not true." I_ trust Angel. I don't trust what's in him, but Angel himself is a trustworthy man._ _To a point._

"So let's ask him." Buffy studied his carefully averted face, set shoulders. Silence greeted her suggestion. The thudding in her chest seemed to stop altogether, then restart heavily. "You did ask?"

"I'm sorry." Giles nodded.

"He- he said no?" Tears sprang to her eyes. "Why? No, never mind, I know why."

"I planned to join you in a few weeks time, still do, unless I feel Wesley needs my help more urgently. But it was those few weeks he was concerned about."

"I can't believe it. I can't." Buffy shook her head, a single wet drop leaking from each eye. "You told him how serious it was?"

"Yes."

"I wouldn't let him... y'know. No soul-lousing activities."

"I know." He didn't, not under the circumstances, but he didn't doubt her resolve.

"He wants to get away from me that bad." Buffy said aloud, but to herself. "Thought this was hard for him."

"Buffy, it is, he had only the wish to protect you from himself, from future problems."

"If I don't live through this, there isno _future_!" She snapped, then put a hand to her mouth, not wanting to direct her outburst at Giles. "Sorry."

"Understandable." He brushed the apology away. "But you see, under the circumstances, and with the need for secrecy, not involving anyone who didn't already know, the limited time..." He trailed off.

"I see. But no way. I'll go by myself."

"You'll go by yourself? Buffy, if that was an option why in the world would I have gone to all the trouble of making some under the table bargain with Spike? Don't you think I considered letting you go alone?"

"Did you? I mean, I'm the Slayer. I can fight, I can be stealthy, and one person hiding is better than two people hiding, Right?"

"Yes, to all points. Only, as I keep saying, as you yourself said, Travers wants this to look like a 'natural' way for a Slayer to meet her end, but it's not a _fight_! You are not coming upon each other in a battle, you are being hunted down with the single purpose of being killed. You usually hunt, you are not the prey. There is only one vampire who's ever made a study of hunting that which hunts his kind, you, and that is Spike. Consider him an expert consultant, consider him a bodyguard, consider him a bloody nuisance, but put up with him for a couple weeks until I can join you!" Giles was practically shaking with exhaustion and stress, and he suddenly let out a cracked cry, "How could I let this happen?"

"What? Giles, no!" Buffy straightened up his shoulders, shaking her head.

"I knew he was going bad, I knew it the second he fired me, but I thought it was personal. I never imagined he'd come after you as well. Not like this."

"Giles, even if you knew, you didn't have any proof but a gut feeling! Watcher-types don't seem to go heavy on the feelings."

"No. We don't." He touched her cheek lightly.

There was a whole world of feelings in that gesture. He was always speaking in gestures. All the work, the planning, the defending, the begging and bargaining, deals with the devil- or at least one of his offspring. "I get it." Buffy nodded and gave him a glistening version of her bright smile. "It'll work out. I'll be back soon."

"Yes, you will." He harrumphed noisily and made a show of looking at his watch. "Is that the time? You need your rest."

"Says the man with Zorro-mask eyes."

"Goodnight, Buffy."

"Night. Sleep well."

* * *

"I don't mean to disturb your beauty sleep, but we're kind of on a time frame, aren't we?"

Giles came suddenly and violently awake. "Spike?"

"You said discreet. I did my bit. I'm shinned up a tree in the pitch black middle of the night whisperin' in your window. It's only discreet until the neighbors catch me."

"Couldn't you have phoned?" Giles demanded, rushing to the window, the crossbow he kept at his bedside loaded and set.

"I didn't want to get out of the car inside town, Genius. Everybody knows my face." Spike rested one booted foot on the window sill. "Can I come in?"

"Don't try anything." Giles warned.

"I'm not hungry. Just ate the owner of a Corolla."

Giles winced, and felt himself a monster for not staking the killer of so many innocent humans. _Needs must when the devil drives. And tonight the devil's in a Toyota. Soon I'll be writing country songs. God, I need a stiff drink._ He shook himself sternly. "You can't leave a trail of bodies when you're in hiding. That was your last kill until you're well away from Buffy or any of her associates, is that understood?"

"What am I s'posed to do?" Spike's voice rose, echoing in the silent block of dwellings, and he found himself yanked inside in an unceremonious bundle of black leather.

"You can hunt the wild animals, deer, elk, even the occasional mountain lion, there's plenty of wildlife where you're going." Giles hissed, and hastily shut the curtains. "There's also the standard amount of butchers and grocers, you can live on animal blood for a month."

"Stuff that." Spike shook his hands off and pushed the Watcher aside. "I'm doin' you a favor, how I carry on while doin' it is up to me."

"No. It's not. It's a deal, Spike. Keeping her safe and hidden for the Eye. Hidden means no body trail leading to you, leading to her."

Spike huffed, and moodily shifted his shoulders in the heavy leather. "Alright. I'm here, I'm not followed, and I'm not wired. You wanna explain my end of the bargain, properly?"

Sleep was apparently not to be. _Oh well, you can always lie down when you're dead._ "Come with me." He kept the lights off, knowing Spike could see in the dark, and knowing his way about by touch. "Sit."

"Don't mind if I do. Drinkies?"

"No." Giles kept his bow pointed in one hand and went to his desk, lifting the leather curio case with the other. "I thought you'd ask to see it."

"Bloody right I would." _Then take it. Leave your lifeless corpse alongside it. Save myself the hassle of helpin' the Slayer. _

"Don't be stupid, Spike." Giles laughed as he saw a flash of amber in the dark. "I'm the owner. Unless I willingly give it to you, it won't work, because it only works for 'he who possesses it'. And don't imagine you can make me give it to you through threats and tortures. I withstood Angelus, I can withstand you. The only reason I told him anything about Acathla is because- well, you were there. You saw what your darling will do when she gets busy inside that warped playground she calls a mind."

Spike hissed like an angry cat. "Watch your mouth."

"Watch your fangs." Giles snapped, just as ill-tempered. "Here." He opened the case revealing a brilliant blue-green stone set in an oval of intricately carved gold. "That's the glue that'll put her mind back together for you."

Spike stretched out his hand, watched Giles unwaveringly hold out the box, and he slowly traced the treasure. "How's it work?"

"There's an incantation. Only the owner knows it- one of the mental properties of the stone, I'm afraid. The owner speaks it, concluding with the name of the person they want healed. That's simple as it is."

"That's it? You could make a bloody fortune with this, take it along to psych wards...no?"

Giles was shaking his head. "It does regain its potency, but only over time. Once you use this, it'll be dormant for several years."

"You'll willingly give this to me-"

"-when you bring Buffy back, safely. I hand it over, thus making you the owner, and in possession of the incantation to activate it."

"I say the gobbledygook, toss on Dru's name, and she's better?" _She'll finally recognize what I do, who I am, that I'm her destiny. She'll be her own person, not bits and pieces of some frightened, mad child Angelus and Darla created. _

"In moments." Giles shut the box, and locked it. "Are you in?"

"Tell me where to go an' what to do." Spike agreed almost eagerly.

"For the time being, I'll tell you that Buffy has all the information. _Your_ job is to simply meet us in the parking area on the northeast side of the high school." _Closest to the blaze... more believable. _"You have a car?"

"Well, not technically mine, but-"

"Bring it."

"Alright. What about money? Digs to stay in, or are we sleepin' rough?"

"There's a safe location and living expenses already procured, Buffy has what you need. Keeps everyone honest." Spike grunted and Giles too that to mean he agreed.

"Any hints as to what's gonna be chasin' her?"

"None."

"Bloody hell, you lot get yourselves in deep shit."

"Don't we though." Giles closed his eyes with a forlorn sound.

"And when does all this go down?"

"On Friday- oh dear, no I suppose I mean _tomorrow_ night."

Spike nodded. Well, it was his neck on the line too, he supposed he could ask and it wouldn't seem too much like he was being a nice guy. "Do you need anything before we get this dog and pony show on the road?"

"Just a reliable way to keep in contact, something they won't be able to tap, so not my phone, not anyone's phone that they'd suspect of aiding her."

Spike reached into his pocket. "This help?" He handed a small black gadget to Giles.

"You have a mobile phone?" The Watcher asked incredulously.

"No, but my dinner did." Spike smiled wickedly. "Some bloke out of Atlanta, flyin' in to Sacramento. I doubt they'd ever think to run a trace on that, right? Complete stranger."

"Does it work?"

"Doesn't seem to have any power, but I bet you can recharge it."

Willow would handle that. "Perfect."

"Say thank you." Spike prompted snarkily.

"The Eye says all the thanks I'm going to say."

"Show a little respect or I'm out of here."

"Fine. Go out of here. The Eye is just a trinket to me. Easily smashed." Giles watched him squirm.

"You would have made a good villain." Spike rose and stalked back up to the loft, intending to exit the way he'd come, for the sake of secrecy.

"I know. I tried it a bit as a boy. Didn't suit me. But the skills are useful."

* * *

_One day until graduation..._

"At last, I'm doing something useful!" Willow eagerly took off the back of the battery cover and poked at some circuits, then slid a different cartridge on. She powered the phone on and it beeped cheerfully. "It's cleared. And I reprogrammed it with a new number, too."

"How'd you do that?" Buffy asked admiringly as they hid out in the back office of the library.

"It's easy. I just hacked into the phone company and requested a change of number. Oh, and Giles said we needed a second one, so I took one out of the lost and found, and took some chargers and batteries too, and anything else I couldn't scavenge from there I raided the computer lab for." She put the second phone down in front of the group of four, herself, Buffy, Giles, and Xander. "I can do the same thing to this one."

"Willow, I could kiss you." Giles murmured into his fifth consecutive cup of coffee.

Willow flushed. "I think Oz might be jealous." She teased.

"Never piss off the werewolf." Xander playfully backed her up.

"After you've taken care of the technical side, there's one more thing I need your help with." Giles had removed his entire personal collection from the school's shelves, but he now produced one old, heavy volume with gilt pages and archaic lettering.

"_Spells of Transformation_? Giles, that's really advanced. That kind of stuff is why Amy's a rat!" Willow's green eyes widened.

"Yes, well, I'm not a witch, I'm merely a spell caster. I'll do the work, I just need your power."

"What are we doing? I mean, I'm not getting transformed right? Because I personally think that's a little above and beyond in terms of hiding out." Buffy backed up slightly.

"Last precaution. No one is to know we have this means of communication, or they'll try to monitor our calls, if it comes to the point where they're snooping about." He flipped a few pages. "We'll see what they are, but to everyone else they need to look like perfectly common items you'd carry around. I was thinking of wallets."

"But _cute_ wallets? Gucci maybe?"

"I was thinking of address books." Giles changed his mind. "Or handkerchiefs."

"No! Someone's gonna end up blowing their nose on my phone." Buffy frowned.

"Go back to wallets." Xander suggested. "You can put it in your pocket or your purse or on the counter at home and no one will notice a thing. Until it starts ringing."

"Only we will hear it ring. You have to know what the true form is to be aware of it in any way." Giles found the page he wanted, and grabbed Willow's hands. "After this- the only thing left to do is wait."

"And prepare for the massively huge demon to come out of the mayor." Buffy reminded them, trying to pretend she wasn't miserable and scared to death.

* * *

Joyce packed and hugged and cried. Then left for her weekend away, waiting for the phone call that would come late tomorrow night or early the next day. She steeled herself to hear Giles' voice.

_"Joyce. Come home. There's been a terrible accident. A gas main went off under the school. Buffy was still inside..." _

She steeled herself even more for the fact that there would be no call. And that meant they hadn't needed the plan, reality had won.

* * *

Willow and Oz panicked. In new ways. Beautiful ways. She was so desperate and passionate, and uncharacteristically quiet, like she was trying to tell him secrets with her soulful eyes. Oz had no idea why, he just enjoyed the silence.

* * *

Xander, Giles, and Wesley lead a team of students in stuffing weaponry and explosives in every conceivable place inside lockers and in the library itself.

Late that night, Giles casually strolled out to the faculty parking lot, slid his borrowed keys into the ignition, and moved Mr. Berkley's car to the northeast side, hiding it deep in the overgrown lot off the mown field. In the trunk, he had a wide variety of items, including Buffy's duffle bag and a cache of weapons that would make any mercenary weep with envy. "Please don't let them get pulled over."

He suddenly remembered Buffy had no license. She couldn't drive! Spike could, but what if she was in a situation where she had to show some identification! "Dammit!" He cried to the dark sky.

"You looking for this?" Xander trudged down the hill.

"Xander, you're supposed to be-"

"At home, I know. But I thought about one thing you never mentioned." He held out two pieces of plastic. "I don't know who the other one is so I just left it blank. In case he or she needs one too."

Giles heaved a sigh of relief and reopened the trunk, tucking two fake licenses, one with Buffy's picture already in place, inside her bag. "Buffy is blessed to have you."

"I know, right?"

* * *

Buffy found Angel. "I don't want to say goodbye." He reminded her, backing farther from her in the light spill of his stone doorway.

Stung, she suddenly felt like she didn't want to either. She'd never wanted to, but now it was different. Now it was just an aversion to being near someone she felt so much for, who she knew felt so differently.

"I get you don't want to come with me. I thought I deserved better than this, though." She whispered, and left the mansion.

He waited until she was completely gone before he whispered, "Goodbye."

* * *

Spike dozed in an underground level of a parking garage, inside his stolen vehicle, saving his strength for not killing the little blonde bint who'd become the thorn in his side on so many occasions. When he wasn't asleep, he dreamed with his eyes open.

Drusilla would be waiting for him, clear headed. They'd have real conversations, talk for hours without the incessant interruptions of dollies or sudden bursts of song. Not that he didn't love her singing, it was the other sudden changes, heart shattering changes, he'd come to hate. They'd dance, and laugh, and sparkle, and she'd know him, truly know him. No more confusion, no more waking-terrors, no more sudden lash outs when those evil little pixies inside her brain came out to torment her.

_She'll never have reason to run, she'll understand my love, that's it's unending, it's not the game Angelus and Darla taught her it was. She'll know I'm the right one. Her destiny, like she's mine. _

He twitched in a fitful half-stupor, lines between sleep and daydreams merging._ But I don't even know the woman I'm describing. She doesn't act like my Dru. Doesn't sound like my Dru. Sounds like some dream woman._

_Don't be a bloody fool. She _is_ my dream woman._

* * *

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Shortish "bridge chapter". Hope you enjoy. _

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season three's dialogue will be used._

_Dedicated to: Alexiarrose, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Sirius120, Lyzzybelle, ShyL, SushiBar, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, Teddybear-514, micmoc, ammuna, rororogers, Touch the Dark, Skeezixx, ValidescopeWest, Mike13z50, Jackiemack916, Sanityfair1, Jedi SteelWolf, kelticmoon, Cavementftw, and NuasicaA._

_You are the MOST AMAZING people for showing so much love and support for a piece. Thank you!_

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part IV**

_Graduation..._

Buffy wrapped the wide bladed hunting knife, still stained a rusty red-brown, in a towel and tucked it back into her jacket. _Most girls at graduation are primping their hair, getting ready for tons of pictures with the family, ready to take center stage when they get their diploma... Not at this school. _She joined the trail of seniors walking onto the field, all with strained looks, most with odd bulges and bumps hidden under ugly maroon gowns. They walked past a flood of empty chairs._ Good. Most people were able to convince their parents to stay home. I don't know how. Maybe they told them the mayor was speaking. Even without the demon-obsession, he's not a lot of fun..._

The music stopped, and Buffy took her place between Xander and Willow in one of the first rows. "Made it on time." Willow smiled at her as Buffy quick walked the last few steps and slid in beside her.

"Am I ever late to a fight?" Buffy quipped in a whisper.

"You're working the hat, Buffster." Xander smiled.

"You're supposed to sit further back. You're not in position." Buffy realized.

"So I'll run a little." He shushed her, as Snyder sat down and the Mayor stepped up.

The mayor took the podium and began, "Well. What a day this is! Special day. Today is our centennial, the one hundredth anniversary of the founding of Sunnydale, and I know what that means to all you kids: not a darn thing. Because today something much more important happens. Today you all graduate from high school!"

Buffy gaped. "Oh my God. He's going to do the entire speech."

"Man, just ascend already." Willow muttered.

"Evil!" Buffy let her hands slip down her sides, taking Xander's in one, Willow's in the other. _Go on. Keep talking. I already said goodbye in private, and now I have to sit here with my best friends ever and act like nothing's wrong. When the talking stops, we all run in different directions, and if I live, I get to disappear. Not fair. _Her grip tightened.

Willow sniffled suddenly, own fingers flexing.

"Stop that." Xander hissed. "People are going to think you're moved by the speech. That's so lame." But he sounded choked up as well.

"So why are you sounding like that?" Willow called him out, forcing a stiff smile on her face.

"Because Buffy is slowly reducing my knuckles to powder."

"Sorry!" Buffy loosened her grip and pulled her hand back.

"No one said to stop." Xander tugged her fingers into his palm once again. "Might be the first and last time I ever hold your hand, so, I'm planning to enjoy it." He joked with a melancholy note in his voice.

"Don't talk like that." Buffy warned, and looked around. No one was paying any attention to them. They were riveted to the mayor, who seemed to be having acute indigestion or passing a kidney stone, twitching and wincing as he spoke.

"I think it's okay. We're about to go into the battle of our lives." He whispered, and then fell silent for a second. "Good luck, Buff." _It's as close to goodbye as I can get right now._

"Yeah. Good luck, Buffy." Willow joined in the wishing, and the three friends slowly returned their attention to the speech, hands unclasping reluctantly, about to be needed for something else.

"What is a journey? Is it just distance traveled? Time spent?" Wilkins shook his head. "No. It's what happens on the way, it the things that happen to you. At the end of the journey you're not the same. Today is about change. Graduation doesn't just mean your circumstances change, it means you do. You ascend… to a higher level. Nothing will ever be the same." He looked up. Buffy and the other students followed his gaze, and saw the setting sun completely blocked, blackened.

* * *

In a smoke filled car on the northeast edge of campus, Spike suddenly sat up. "Well well. What have we here?" He stepped from the car, but stayed hidden beside it, as Giles had commanded, parked beside another hidden car. A few moments of staring at the black sun with some sort of evil contentment gave way to a gasp and a very un-villain-like flail and fall back as the sky suddenly rent apart, from the ground up, split by a writhing black snake. Spike got back in the car and turned the motor over, ready to move if things got going. "Sod it, why did Travers even bother to plot against the girl? She's going to be snake dinner in a few!" He rested his hand on the gearshift, then paused. "If anyone could survive that, I s'pose she could." He let his hand fall back to his knee. Then it turned off the ignition. "If anyone could _kill_ the big nasty, I s'pose it'd be her." He exited the car once again, and went round to sit on the hood and watch the big game from the very, very far sidelines.

* * *

The fully hatched demon reared up, and Buffy was on her feet with it, hands ripping open her gown to reveal the dense black battle-wear she was hiding underneath. "_Now_!"

All the students mimicked her, rising up, gowns opening, revealing crosses, axes, and other assorted weaponry.

She had to remember the plan, both plans. _But the first rule of Slaying is "Don't die." So this plan first._ "Flame units." Several students, led by Larry, pointed homemade flame throwers at the risen mayor, who screamed as fire touched him.

Buffy nodded at Xander, already scrambling back to his position, typical goofy smile replaced with a hardened look._ Bye, Xan. Gotta run._

Xander nodded back. "First wave!" He pulled Willow, who'd been chasing his steps, into position, closing a line of archers. "Fire!"

Crossbows fired lance pointed bolts. _Atta girl, Will. You help him. I have to go. _Then she did.

Buffy had tunnel vision take over. She could hear screaming, she could feel vampires, dozens of them, getting closer. She knew holding the front against them would be Wesley, Percy, and Oz, stakes and flaming arrows all around. Who would they be led by? Xander was their battlefield strategist, due to his time as a "military man", but right in the thick of it, would be Angel. Her throat lumped, and she swallowed it down. _No goodbyes. He'll make it. They'll all make it._

The battleground orders rang in ears. "Fall back!" "Hand to hand!" "Close that right flank!" "Fall back, fall back! Move dammit!" Screams. People hurting.

_ No more. I stop this. _"Hey!" Buffy was practically underneath the writhing snake-like being. "Yeah! You!" The mayor's head swung in the air, onyx eyes as big her fist suddenly peering at her. She didn't feel afraid. She felt- ready.

"You remember this?" Buffy slowly reached into her pocket, and shook the dagger out of its towel. The eyes twitched. "Thought you did. I took it from Faith. Stuck it in her gut." She looked at the blade, hiding the wince she wanted to let out. The mayor snapped his jaws, and she goaded him, hearing the screaming fade behind her, every second she stopped his feeding buying her "troops" time to defeat his henchmen. "Yeah. Stuck it right in, deep." She gouged forward, copying her actions from the previous week. "Just slid in her like she was butter."

The demon above her let out a screaming screech, coiled body suddenly thrashing angrily. She wasn't scared. She got a perfectly malicious look on her face. "You want to get it back from me..." she resisted the urge to wink, something in her suddenly telling her she was going to win, but not to be cocky about it, "Dick?"

By his lashing roar, she figured he meant yes. She turned on the Slayer speed and fled past him into the empty school.

There was a splintering crash in her wake, made by a train-sized snake taking out the doors, destroying the hallways in his path.

_I could so totally die in this. The building's coming down already. _Buffy thought with an odd sort of satisfaction, thinking about her supposed end. She ran harder, every second after this job was done was another second in her favor.

Buffy ran into the library, and vaulted a counter, looking back at the mayor to make sure most of him was inside the zone.

The demonic being looked around the library he'd chased her into and saw the barrels of fuel and bags of fertilizer stacked everywhere. He jerked to a halt as his prey ran, not even stopping at a conveniently open window, merely leaping through it as if she had been running_ to_ it, not running from him, this whole time.

He got it, in a blinding flash, but it was too late. "Well, gosh." That was his last coherent thought before a true blinding flash occurred.

* * *

Giles took his hand off the plunger, and grabbed Buffy around the waist as she staggered down beside his crouching form. The building was engulfed in flames, the heat driving all their forces back to a safe distance.

"They're fine, let's go." Giles tugged her along, not letting her catch her breath. In the distance, the first of many sirens sounded. A chain of smaller explosions popping like rocket powered corks echoed behind them, and spurts of fire kissed the night sky. "People saw you run in?" He demanded.

"Everyone." She panted.

"No one saw you exit, the fighting was all to the right and front." He had one hand in his pocket, fumbling with a screwdriver as they ran. "There, there's the car."

"Two cars. Why two cars?" Buffy asked as he released her and kept going, around the backs of the vehicles. One was occupied.

"Nice little bonfire." Spike slowly swung his feet out of the door and stood, projecting carelessness and crass from every inch. Relaxed stance, lazy half-lidded eyes, leisurely dragging on a smoke.

"Wanna go warm up? I hear it's nice and toasty." Buffy smiled nastily.

_Oh swell. This is going to be loads of fun._ Spike flicked his cigarette away. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be. We just have to- Giles?"

"Minute!" Giles stood up, license plate from the rental car in his hand, and proceeded to the back of Mr. Berkeley's. "Haven't done this in years. Just a tic."

Buffy watched open mouthed as he quickly swapped tags and opened the trunk of the car before tossing Spike the keys. "Give me the keys to the Toyota."

Spike did, with a look of growing admiration. "Chop shop?"

"Few times. Back in the day." Buffy's jaw hit her knees and bounced back. Giles ignored her and looked at the trunk's contents. "Spike, do you have luggage?"

"Yeah." Spike reached into the rental's front seat and brought out a carton of cigarettes, a few blankets, a leather duffle, and pair of sunglasses.

"That's it?" Buffy demanded.

"Travel light, Cutie."

"Don't call me that."

"Wouldn't even have the bag, 'cept it came with the car. Well, the car's _owner_. Okay with you, Ugly?"

"Don't call me anything!" Buffy resisted the urge to slap him, stake him, or shove Faith's knife into him.

"Shut up." Giles commanded simply as he slammed the trunk after tossing Spike's things into it. "Buffy, the address and the house key? The map?"

"In my purse. In the trunk. I hope. I gave it to you with my luggage." Buffy twisted her hands anxiously. A trail of fire trucks and ambulances was beginning to decorate the scene. Giles noticed too, taking the keys from Spike and reopening the boot of the car. "We have to hurry..." First responders would be trying to get inside the building soon.

"I know." Giles handed her the purse. "Phone?"

"In here." She held up a wallet.

"What the-?" Spike looked at her like she was mad.

"Buffy, explain it to him, then he'll be able to see it. Money, address, keys, phone, weapons?"

"Uh-huh."

"Then good luck. I'll call you tomorrow. Call if you need me." He patted his pocket. "I have my phone in here."

"The number?"

"Willow programmed it in."

They stood awkwardly, and Spike huffed and sighed. "I get they Eye soon's I hand her over, safe an' sound?"

"Yes." Giles said briefly. Buffy didn't seem to hear, she was staring in the distance, the wall of fire pushing people farther and farther back.

"You'll be careful?" Buffy murmured to her Watcher with a suddenly frightened look.

"I promise. Now go. Quietly, quickly. Spike-"

"Don't waste the time, I'll threaten myself later." He slid into the car and started it. "Ooh, like this. Buick, big and - oi!"

Giles ripped the emblem from the hood. "Sorry. Need it." He pried the Toyota emblem from the abandoned rental as well.

"You so owe me a story about your misspent youth when I get back." Buffy crossed her arms, then let them fall open.

"I will talk until you tell me to stop." He leaned forward, hugged her hard, and shoved her into the passenger seat. "Drive!" Spike obeyed, quietly purring through the night- covered grass, down the semi-cleared path to the groundskeeper's equipment shed and then to the road.

Giles had no time for reflective lingering. He jammed the spar of the Buick's insignia into the remaining hood, got in the car, now bearing the Buick's plate, and drove it around the back of the inferno. The frames and the tires were obviously a different size, but in the heat of the fire, that wouldn't matter. And in the investigation of the fire, no one would care, and Mr. Berkley, poor absent-minded professor that he was, would be able to claim his insurance, replace his vehicle after he "realized" it must've been destroyed during the explosion.

Giles hopped from the car and ran, pushing it into the line of the blaze, and then darting like mad back down the hill before the petrol caught.

A few hundred yards and he heard the pop like a huge tin can exploding.

_There. No trail. No trace. Buffy's in a safe car, wrong plate, out of state plates, model, make, nothing matches, and nothing connects _that_ car to _this _location. The only car missing from Sunnydale High, if Travers checks, was just engulfed in the inferno, with the plates to prove it. If they can salvage them. Probably won't be able to. But that doesn't matter. We covered every possible track. She'll be perfectly fine. Completely safe._

He sat down abruptly in the grass, knees suddenly losing their strength._ Safe? With Spike? Oh Lord... what've we done?_

* * *

"Where'm I heading?" Spike stopped reluctantly at the first stop sign they came to, though he would've rather blown through it. Speed vs. not getting noticed. Stealth won. For now.

"Huh?"

"Directions."

"Oh." Buffy reached inside her purse with slightly shaking hands, fumbled open the bank envelope and pulled out the directions. "You need I-5 north. He doesn't say where you get that from here..."

"I know how." Spike eased from the stop sign and then worked the speed gradually up until the car was silently hitting sixty. In moments they passed the "Thank you for visiting Sunnydale" sign, heading north.

They rode in silence.

* * *

"Did she-" Willow's words were cut off by a tiny jerk of the Watcher's head.

"Willow! Thank heavens you're alright." Giles wrapped on arm around her, more to muffle her than anything. Police were everywhere. "Xander? Where is he?"

"Here!" Xander popped out from one of the ambulances.

"Xander!"

"I'm fine. Dealing with Wesley."

"Wesley?"

"He's knocked out. Which is okay with me, because when he's awake he's talking, and I really don't like the sound of his voice."

Just as well. A trip to the hospital would delay a report to Travers. Any and all delays welcome. "Is it serious?"

"I don't think so. He was unconscious before, and Oz and I helped him up, then he felt the back of his head, saw blood on his fingers, and passed out again."

"Angel?"

"He made it." Oz appeared, hugging Willow to him tightly. "Saw him ditching. Right between those two ambulances. Where's our fearless leader?"

_Here we go._ "Buffy?" Giles looked around, scanning the smoke filled crowds of milling people. "Isn't she with you?"

"W-we thought she was with you." Willow shrugged off Oz's arm. It was so hard to do this, and she couldn't do this if he was touching her.

"Buffy!" Xander shouted.

"Buffy?" Cordelia teetered up, one broken heel in her hand. "Where is she? She'll turn up, never mind, this is important. Giles, does the city compensate for lost footwear if it's damaged while stopping a civil servant gone crazy evil? I need to know now, because I imagine they're going to have a_ lot_ of claims, and I don't want to get lost in a waiting list."

"As the police will most likely call this a gas explosion, you can't sue the city for your shoes." Giles said dryly. "Your personal insurance might cover it, but you'd have to check with your parents."

"Guh. Not worth it. They're already in Rio, avoiding the IRS." Cordelia tossed the other shoe off and stood cringing on tiptoe. "Can we leave?"

"Yes, go ahead." Xander urged.

"We're waiting for Buffy." Willow looked around nervously.

Cordelia joined her this time. "Yeah... she would probably be back by now, right? After getting all fighty?"

"She's oddly unfazed after battles." Oz nodded, looking worriedly at the fleet of ambulances. "She might be really hurt. She did just lose all her blood a week ago. Maybe she's not at the top of her game after all."

"Good heavens. I'll check inside the ambulances, Xander, Willow, you look around the area where the medics are still working on the ground. Oz and Cordelia, you check the grassy area where police are taking statements.

"Grass? There's blood, and vampire ash, and broken glass everywhere and I don't have my shoes." Cordy complained.

"Buffy is missing!" Xander snarled suddenly. "Go look for her, okay?"

Cordelia, never easily cowed, saw something deep and beyond anxious in his eyes, something she thought it more prudent not to argue with. "Okay."

* * *

"Okay, there we go." Spike took the northbound interchange and let the car rocket to eighty five. His companion sat, moodily silent, and it pissed him off. Little gratitude might be nice, but he wouldn't ask for it. He reached down and snapped on the radio, surfing through stations until he found something hard and pulsing to drive to.

Buffy jerked as metal seemed to be thrown at amplifiers. "What is that?" She asked.

"What?" Spike shouted.

She cranked the volume down. "If I come back deaf, you don't get the prize." She snapped.

"It wasn't that bloody loud." Spike groused. " 'Sides, not like you were talking."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I dunno!"

"See, usually after people haven't seen each other in six months, they do all this 'great to see you', 'What've you been up?' to stuff. _I,_ on the other hand, hate seeing you, and I know what you've been up to, and I hate that too."

Spike looked at her with a bemused frown. "Someone's cranky."

"Agh." She made a noise of disgust. "Okay, fine. You wanna talk, I can talk."

"I don't want you to, I just was pointing out that you weren't exactly filling the silence, so why shouldn't I listen to the radio."

"Listen to something that doesn't make my ears try to tear themselves off my head and leap out the window. Here, I'll find a station." She skimmed through. Nothing sounded good. Nothing_ felt _good. The adrenaline rush wore off with a crash.

_I just left everyone I care about- or they left me. I hope he made it out. Even if he doesn't really care if I make it or- never mind. I hope he made it out. But I can't call Giles to ask yet. _

_ I'm officially supposed to be dead. But I'm trying to stay alive. With Spike's help. Great. Two undead people in a Buick._ "You know what? Silence is golden. I'm going to sleep. Don't bite me or I'll stake you."

She rolled to the side as best she could, putting her forehead against the cool window glass, and forcing her eyes to stay shut.

Spike swallowed a snarky comment. Only because it might lead to an in car brawl, and that could be distracting while driving. But he wasn't good at silence tonight. Seemed too difficult. Maybe because pissing her off was preferable- and making truces with her was unpleasant. So he started to half sing, almost muttering, head bobbing along. "I fought the law and the law won. Hmm hmm mhmm and the law won. I -"

"Can you please stop?" Buffy whirled back to face him.

"You're s'posed to be sleeping."

"I can't sleep with you singing!"

"This is going to be hell." Spike clamped his hands down around the wheel to prevent them from reaching her neck instead.

"Tell me about it." She groaned under her breath.

"Gimme the directions." Spike reached into her lap and yanked the paper away from her.

"Hey!"

"We're going - we're going all the bloody way up to bloody Washington state!" He yowled.

"Hey, the farther away from Sunnydale I am, the better. For now." Buffy snatched the paper back.

"Slayer, that's just under a twenty hour drive!"

Buffy was no bolt upright. "You're not serious?"

"I am! Do you have any idea how long bally California is?"

"I do now!" Buffy spread out the directions. "Stay on I-5 for three hundred and thirty four miles? Take slight left to stay on I-5 entering Oregon, and then go straight for seven hundred and thirty miles?"

"I think he just basically told us to go straight for a thousand bleedin' miles, Luv."

"I am. Going. To die." Buffy didn't like car trips at the best of times. Too much energy, and she was strictly a pedestrian sort of person since her mom was giving her the hardcore no regarding a driver's permit.

"Lucky you, you get the escape, I'm already dead, what'm I gonna do?"

"Drive?"

"Har har. We're switchin' at daylight. I'll kip in the back under the blankets, you drive."

"Um."

"Um what?" Spike gave her a look that dared her to complain about it. She dared.

"I don't drive."

"You don't-?" He whipped his pale face to the side to confront her. "Look Princess, you can get your prissy little feet covered with demon spillage but you're too good to put 'em on pedals? I don't think so. We switch."

"I meant I don't know _how _to drive!" She confessed, angry and embarrassed.

He spluttered, and then he laughed, and then he stopped finding it funny- which was good, because Buffy had almost decided it would be easier to walk the thousand miles (and less annoying) and was reaching into her pocket for Mr. Pointy.

"I'm super human an' all, but this thing doesn't have much tint in the windows, and I'm not sun-proof."

"Yeah." Buffy sighed, cursing herself for her lack of knowledge on one really useful thing.

"Yeah."

Silence held for a couple minutes, both quick witted and resourceful people trying to figure out a solution.

"Do you need to pee?" Spike suddenly demanded, just as Buffy said,

"It's a straight line, how hard could it be?"

"What?" Both asked, confused, and on Buffy's part, somewhat offended.

"Personal!"

"It's a straight line on a highway with ninety thousand other drivers, semis, motorcycles, and little old ladies who can't see over the wheel!"

"How does my bladder come into this?"

"When you need a rest stop, we're switchin'."

"But- the little old ladies." Buffy protested feebly, no longer so gung-ho after his description of the freeway.

"Yeah, but there's much less traffic at night. I'll- teach you." _I'll what? I don't teach. I kill and maim. Well, the driving lesson might end up with some of that..._

"You'll teach me? To drive?"

"Unless you want to stop and get a motel room for the day, or pull over on the side of the road while yours truly stays away from Mr. Sunshine by being wrapped in blankets in the backseat." Spike sank back in his seat.

"I want to keep moving. The faster we are, the farther we are, the safer we are."

"You are."

"Yeah, I are. I mean, I _am_." She rubbed her head.

He shook his head, something very close to sympathy making a rare emergence. She was running for her life, and she hated it, and she was probably exhausted. "Sleep. I won't sing. Wake you in a couple."

"Thanks." Buffy said grudgingly, and closed her eyes.

_At least he's trying to help. Help himself mainly, but it's still a nice offer, I guess. Maybe it'll be an annoying, yet tolerable kind of hell..._ Buffy thought as she let sleep crash her overtaxed system.

* * *

"What the hell are you trying to do!? Are you trying to 'cause a massacre? Shit!" Spike wrenched the wheel hard to the right, cutting off a car and landing them on the shoulder. "BRAKE!"

Buffy stomped her foot down and the car screeched to a halt. "You _so _can not teach."

"Switch back, switch back." He unbuckled his seatbelt- something he didn't normally bother with, but he had once she took the wheel.

"No! I only got fifteen minute turn."

"And when you're about to die, every minute seems like an hour, an' fifteen hours of torture per day even tops the Spanish Inquisition blokes."

"You just started screaming at me, I don't even know what I did!" Buffy refused to be budged.

"Don't know what you...?" Spike couldn't even finish the thought, merely wrenched her hands off the wheel. "Look, Slayer, just because a sign says 'Construction: Left lane ends, Merge right', doesn't mean you're automatically cleared to go over!"

"I looked in my mirror!"

"Then how'd you miss that Fed Ex truck and that poor man in the Honda? I think he might've ended up in the ditch back there."

"I blame that bulldozer thing. I thought he was trying to get over, I had to swerve."

"He was parked! He was in the construction area, he was effin' _parked_!" Spike bolted abruptly from his seat, marched around the car, and made to open her door and push her across the seat. Only the door was locked.

"Slayer." He growled warningly, pumping the handle.

"No." She looked straight ahead, arms crossed.

"Slayer!" He thumped the glass."We have to go, we cannot have an argument alongside the highway!"

Buffy thumped it back, shouting at him, "Then go back to the passenger side and I'll let you in!" She didn't want to drive. She never wanted to touch a car again. But it was the principle of the thing. She didn't like Spike bullying her, and she hated feeling stupid and helpless and not knowing how, and even more she hated that just sitting in the car with nothing to do meant her brain could work overtime and make her crazy. At least with driving she was busy being scared with a purpose.

"You know I can just bust out this window, right?" Spike snarled.

"Then the wind will blow your blankets off and you'll fry when I drive in the daytime. Which I might be okay with. I can do this alone."

_ Oooh, stupid little thing. Here I thought she was smarter than the rest._ He stomped around to the passenger side and slid in, then locked his fingers around her shoulder, jerking her to face him. "Do this alone, can you?"

She pushed his hands off. "I should have gone by myself. I was only agreeing to this because Giles is all paranoid." She mumbled bitterly.

"Bein' as your boss is the one tryin' to off you, I'd say paranoid suits him."

"Whatever. I could have done this alone. It's my thing."

He let out a sigh with venomous undertones. "Let me tell you somethin'. Slayers who work alone _die_. I know. You included your little pals and your Watcher, and you live to tell the tale. There's two slayers right now, yeah? Why is that?" A sneer formed under the anger.

"I blacked out for a minute, so I was _technically_ dead, but-"

"Uh-huh," he cut her off, "and why'd you get back? How'd you get back?"

"CPR. Xander." Buffy admitted, seeing the point, and hating him for making it.

"See? Not alone. He's right, the old man is. You shouldn't be goin' alone, unless you wanna die alone."

She shut up. No denial, no reason to argue, nothing to say to that.

_Beaten. But still won't give._ Spike's sneer softened, very slightly. He waited for a few seconds before saying, in a very flat, even voice, "Alright. Put your blinker on. Get us out of the grit here, an' keep in the right lane. I'll navigate- you listen."

Wordlessly, she complied, easing them out on the highway whose traffic was rapidly dwindling as the hours passed.

* * *

"Hours have passed, Sir, I'm afraid- well, from what we can piece together, I think she might've been in the building."

"What? No! She was sitting right beside Willow!" Giles cried, with genuine distress in his voice.

"I understand that, but in the mass hysteria and panic induced hallucinations, she might have thought she was running to safety. Sunnydale High has had a history of gas main breaks, causing this sort of group reaction. I'm sorry."

"Did you look in there?" Xander demanded, because staying silent didn't seem to fit. "She might be- she might-"

"I'm sorry. Anyone in that building..." The police officer let the sentence fade.

"Did you check?" Cordelia demanded, inserting herself in the cluster of people around one sweaty and harassed looking officer.

"Ma'am that-"

"_Miss_, thank you! Hello, only eighteen!"

"Miss, that building will be too hot for people to enter safely for the next several hours, minimum. It's structurally unsound, and it might collapse if the supporting steel beams buckle under the heat. No one can go in, and no one should be this close. Now, really, we need to clear the area, this structure's too unstable." He turned away as his radio crackled. "Right. Moving them back." He pushed a button on his shoulder unit and then shouted, "All civilians need to get back behind the cordon. Now!"

"Come along, come." Giles staggered forward, his arms spread to herd the four teens in front of him. "Officer, please- you'll call me? Can I leave a number, something?"

"Of course, Sir, there's a point of contact registration out behind the ambulances." The radio crackled again. "Move back!"

"Wait- are they - do they think Buffy is...?" Cordelia ever blunt, tried to piece together what everyone else seemed to be silently dealing with.

"She's not anywhere." Oz murmured, arm around Willow. "We looked everywhere, no one saw her."

"But, she can't be. It's _Buffy_." Willow looked miserably up at Giles, voice wobbling, lips trembling.

"My God." Cordelia put a hand to her olive cheek. "Xander... I'm so sorry. I'm-"

Xander felt like his chest was going to explode. _She's alive. She's alive. She can't die. She can't die and I can't screw it up._ "Shut up! She's fine! She's just fine!"

"Xander..." Giles reached out for his shoulder.

"No! Leave me alone! I'm gonna find her!" Xander shrugged past restraining hands. "I'm gonna find her!"

Giles watched police push the boy back when he tried to duck under the yellow barricades. The boy was angry, combusting, screaming that someone needed to get in there.

Willow fell apart in the other extreme. Silent sobs racking her frame as she fell against Oz, and then kept falling. "She's gone. She's gone. She's gone!" Whispering on her knees, mind going over a thousand what ifs, a thousand times it had been too late, that she had been gone, but miraculously came back._ She won't come back, if we mess up. _

Giles stood like a statue, lost in what happened and worrying about what would happen next. To the onlooker, he seemed frozen, shocked, a man whose world is crumbling.

It seemed like hours later when Oz and Cordelia got all of them sitting down in the parking lot, waiting to be cleared to leave, one sobbing, one seething, and one silent. It was just after midnight on graduation day.

It was supposed to be some big beginning, but it feels like everything just ended, Cordelia thought as she kept shaking her head.

"Willow, come on. Let's get you home, babe. It's really late." Oz murmured.

Two humans with three human shadows between them finally drove away.

* * *

_Day One..._

"How do I pull over?"

"Signal. Other side. Pull down. No... that's the wipers. Every time the wipers!"

"My mom's car is different, okay?"

"Here." Spike smacked his hand down across the wheel to hit the right lever, earning him a screech of tires and a swerve as Buffy took both hands off the wheel to push his arm away. "I'm helpin'!"

"Help verbally, not physically!" Buffy barreled across the white line, hit a rumble strip and careened into a highway rest stop.

"What are we doin'?" Spike demanded.

"Human. Haven't eaten in like- two days. Need to eat, or will pass out." Buffy spelled it out through tightly locked jaws. _Five hours on the road. No one dead- well, no one more dead, yet._

"I need to eat too." He hinted, licking blunt incisors.

"I'm just going to the vending machines, I don't want anyone to see me." Buffy ignored the comment. "Don't bite anyone."

"Hurry the hell up then. And I'm drivin' the next bit, we must've lost an hour the way you creep along!"

"I'm learning!" Buffy spat and took several deep breaths before she fled from the car.

"Oi! Spicy bacon chips! Three bags! Oh, and a coke!"

Buffy clutched her purse and hastily dug a couple dollar bills out of it, keeping her head down and her collar well up as she went to the row of vending machines on the outer wall of the building.

"An' some beef jerky!"

_I'm being hunted by the "good guys". I'm on a road trip in a stolen car to stay in a house in the middle of who knows where. I suck at driving, and I really want a shower. I have the "bodyguard" from hell, and he has the munchies._

"I wanna go home." Buffy muttered viciously.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Short and snarky, and a little jumpy, looking at some various perspectives. I promise not every day takes up a whole chapter, just getting the ball rolling. _

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season three's dialogue will be used._

_Dedicated to: Spike is the BIG BAD, Alexiarrose, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Sirius120, Lyzzybelle, ShyL, SushiBar, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, Teddybear-514, micmoc, ammuna, Seapea, rororogers, Touch the Dark, Skeezixx, ValidescopeWest, Mike13z50, Rachel, Jackiemack916, Sanityfair1, Jedi SteelWolf, kelticmoon, Cavementftw, and NuasicaA. _

_Wow, you guys! I'm the most fortunate author ever to have readers who give me so much encouragement. You rock._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part V**

_Day One..._

"I can't do this. I can't _do_ this!"

"You can." A muffled, cranky voice mumbled.

"I can't, Spike!"

"You're doing fine." Spike huddled deeper in his mass of blankets in the backseat.

"It's rush hour now! And we're coming up on Portland! That's a major city, right? A capital or a- eee!" Buffy let out a high-pitched noise from the back of her throat.

"What, what? Ow!" Spike had instinctively reacted and sat up, and now lay back down, singed as sunlight hit his briefly uncovered face.

"I took the wrong exit! It said 'this lane exit only' and it said next three exits Portland, and I didn't know we weren't supposed to-" A horn blaring muted the rest of her frantic explanation.

Pause.

"Are we in downtown Portland now?" Spike moaned faintly.

"Mhmm." The car slowed.

"There's traffic?" He sighed, eyes wincingly shut.

"Yeah." She admitted morosely.

"How much gas?"

"Umm. The needle is on the little red line."

"Alright. There is one more thing I need to know. Listen very carefully."

"Okay..." Buffy distractedly looked at the myriad of road signs, trying to pick up the proper route.

"Do you have a stake?"

"Of course!"

"I need it for a minute."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because I've decided we_ both _deserve to die. Me for comin' on this blasted trip, even though I knew I should've run the other way, an' you because you _will_ not shut up and let me sleep!" He growled and kicked the driver's seat viciously from behind.

Shouldn't have done that. He felt a small hand reach back, grab his knee, then jerk his covers down. "Argh!" He pulled his coat up across his face and snatched frantically for the blankets when Buffy tossed them back. "Are you tryin' to flambé me?"

"You wanted to die, Buddy Boy!"

"Well, you don't, right?"

"No, I really don't!" Anger was a great refresher. She sat up straighter, fresh eyed, and began painfully maneuvering her way to a gas station in the distance. "Alright. Do you know what's wrong with this picture?"

"The two of us bein' in a stolen Buick, in Portland?"

"Yes. I mean, no, not just that. Whenever we worked together, we always had a deal."

"We do. You don't die, I get the Eye. Simple."

"And it rhymes." Buffy tossed on cheekily. "But, again, not just that. We need- ground rules."

"No country music." Control of the radio had been a constant battle through the night and early daylight hours.

"God no!" Buffy cast a look in the back seat, and under the gas station's concrete canopy she saw blue eyes peeking out in the shade, suddenly amused. "No killing."

"Already promised to the old man. No stakin' me, or threatenin' to. And no more blanket snatches."

"Agreed- unless you try to bite me. As for sleeping- I'll let you sleep when we're out of cities. And there's way more not city than city out here."

He sighed heavily. "Bloody hell, alright, I'll hold your little hand through the tricky bits."

"Will you stop picking on my driving?"

"If you ever get good at it. But I'll be far away by then, I _sincerely_ hope." He growled.

"I've had an ungodly amount of driver's ed in one night. I'm gonna be totally license worthy when we get back." Buffy said confidently.

"Not a chance." Spike chuckled.

"Why not?" Buffy demanded, unlocking her car door, preparing to step out and refuel.

"Gas tank is on the other side, Slayer."

* * *

"Joyce?"

"Giles?" She'd been pacing all night, off and on, afraid to call, afraid to deviate from the plan. Why hadn't he called until early the next morning? She sat down, clutching her hotel room's seashell pink phone.

"There's no easy way to tell you this- er- bad news I have."

That wasn't part of the rehearsed lines. Lines he'd use specifically to let her know the bad news wasn't genuine.

Giles shook himself and blinked bloodshot eyes. "I'm sorry. Let me begin again."

"What are you trying to say?" Joyce pressed, breathing already getting more difficult.

"Joyce. Come home. There's been a terrible accident. A gas main went off under the school. Buffy was still inside..."

There was a choking sound, a sob, and a question. "She- she's-?"

"No one has been able to find her."

Joyce nodded through her tears, looking at the stuccoed ceiling as tears easily coursed over her cheeks. _No one has been able to find her. She got away clean. My baby's in so much danger. But she's safe. No, she's not, she's just in different types of danger, safe from some things and not last few days have been a paradox in parenting, worrying, and grief. _

Giles listened to shaking cries. She wasn't acting. Funny how all of them were acting, and none of them were.

Joyce whispered. "You're- sure?"

_Sure she's out of town. Sure if she's safe? Not entirely._ "No one's been able to find her." He repeated.

"I'll come right home." Joyce hung up the phone with a shaking sigh.

The worst reason ever to leave a vacation that she'd loathed going on and was so happy to leave.

Paradoxical indeed.

* * *

"This is a hideout?" Spike looked through the windshield, peering at the graying evening sky. "This is the least hidden hideout I've ever seen."

"Shore Side, Washington?" Buffy murmured sleepily. The rest of the long, oh so looong trip, had been filled with very little arguing (except over the radio) and lots of Buffy trying to stay awake and Spike trying to stay asleep.

"Wake up." He elbowed her.

"Ow!"

"Don't pull the delicate act on me, your ribs are made of titanium an' I'm cranky. _Someone_ didn't stop to feed the help."

"Spike, they don't have butchers in rest stops, I told you that!" Buffy sat up and pushed her hair from where it had stuck to her cheek. "Why are you so- oh. Wow."

"Yeah."

They entered a town where the woods seem to brush up against the streets, and happy little white houses with happy little white fences and swing sets managed to poke their heads out of masses of pines just enough to have nice lawns and big summery flower beds.

"Did you take a wrong turn?" Buffy asked in a mildly puzzled voice.

"No, _you_ take wrong turns, I can drive _and_ read a map." He muttered, and slowly began to drive again. "Maybe there's somethin' seedier up ahead."

"I hope so." Buffy looked around her. Kids playing kickball in someone's driveway. Old couples playing cards on a patio in sweaters. "Is it possible to die and end up in that painter guy's head?"

"Painter guy?"

"He made all these magazine covers with little boys and dogs and everyone was perfect and old timey?"

"Norman Rockwell?"

"Yes! Totally paid attention during the 20th century art chapter." Buffy congratulated herself. Spike snorted. "This is really nice."

"I know."

"I don't think we belong here."

"I know." He agreed.

The houses got fewer and farther between, but still maintained that air of cheerful wholesomeness. "He's smart." Spike grudgingly admitted.

"Who?"

"Giles. We don't belong here. But it's not completely outlandish, like packin' you off to the hills of Tibet or the jungles of Borneo. Hidden but not."

"That's the house! That one at the end, just before the road splits." Buffy double checked the crumpled paper for the tenth time. "That's it!"

It was a little white town house, and instead of a perfect lawn, it was slightly overgrown, with more trees than garden, the property adjoining the woods that had been permeating the town. Where the road veered, one side headed deeper into the forest, and the other continued deeper into the residential neighborhood. It had neighbors on one side, and caddy corner across the wide street, but nothing too close by.

Small town, woodland America. "Doubt they'll look for you here." Spike eased the car into the driveway and left in idle, intending to pull it into the garage once they unlocked it.

"Uh huh. Not at first anyway." Buffy sighed, and headed wearily for the front door.

* * *

Wesley's phone was ringing loudly and persistently when he got into his flat, head bandaged and limping a little. He knew who it would be.

"Wesley Wyndham-Pryce." Wesley noiselessly slid his finger to the record button on his cassette player beside the phone.

"Pryce. I assume the ascension was stopped?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Excellent. That nurse we have watching Faith reports there's no change, and she's been growing weaker in the last day."

"Perhaps she had some psychic link with the mayor." Wesley offered, suddenly aware of a new threat. The nurse, Travers' handpicked nurse, right in town, probably ready to report every move they made, if she was let in on his suspicions, if she could leave Faith's side.

"Possibly. At any rate, since you've confirmed the mayor is taken care of, that brings us to the end of the current Slayer's usefulness. I was thinking-"

Wesley took a deep breath and did something utterly impolite. He interrupted his superior, deliberately, calmly. "Yes, Sir, I was waiting for your call to tell me when the new Slayer arrives. Or am I to go to her?"

"I'll see, but first Summers."

"Yes, Sir. What about her?"

In his office at Council headquarters, Travers sat up straight at his desk. "The need for her removal."

"Sir?" Wesley made his voice carefully confused.

"For heaven's sake, Pryce, don't make me spell out my reasonings again! If I'm willing to remove a Slayer, don't you imagine I'd be willing to remove you as well? If necessary, for the good of the Council?" He added, almost as an afterthought.

His nerve tried to turn and flee, but he held it, struggling and squirming though it was. "Surely your plan isn't needed at this point?"

"Of course it's needed! What are you playing at, Pryce?"

"Miss Summers died. She died, and she took the mayor with her." His words were met with silence- then a blurted whisper:

"At last! We begin again, a glorious renewal!" Travers sounded maliciously content, and abruptly rang off.

* * *

"Why can't we call her?" Joyce demanded, looking at the 'phone' in Giles' hand. He explained the spell that altered its appearance, but it still looked like a wallet to her.

"She has to call us. We don't want to risk upsetting any delicate situations."

"You mean if someone's there." Xander paced the Summers' living room. He and Willow were there, and the two older adults. It was a good thing this cover included grieving, because grief-stricken people could hang with their friends and family and no one would ask about it. "Do you think she's in trouble? Did they find her already?"

"Of course not." Giles said with some impatience. "I'm sure she's just settling in. They should have reached the safe house by now."

* * *

Buffy made her way through the dark house while Spike waited for her to open the garage door so he could pull the car in. "Don't put any lights on until you shut all the blinds." Buffy nervously muttered to herself as she walked to the windows in the front of the living room. "They know this guy's friend is coming, but it doesn't mean we have to have neighbors here in five minutes with cupcakes and welcome wagons." She moved with hair-trigger caution, expecting assassins in every corner. "Great bodyguard, he's not even coming in first to take out any baddies lying in wait. But if he did- I'd have to park the car in that tiny little garage. Probably not a good idea, unless this guy suddenly wants a drive through building."

Buffy stumbled through the cluttered garage, fumbled the latch on the retractable door open, and pushed it up. In the driver's seat, she could see Spike give a small "about time" eye roll and began to pull in.

The car's nose stopped abruptly, the whole thing jerking as though it ran into an invisible wall. Buffy gasped and expected to see the front bumper crumbling. "Spike?" She called softly, and ran to the car, spine already crouching for whatever assailant must be lurking behind the car.

Spike swung out, cursing and hissing under his breath. "Of all the stupid things for him to overlook, I can't believe he didn't mention this!"

"What? What's the big- oh God! _Vampire_!"

"No shit, Slayer." Spike walked to the doorframe and patted an invisible barrier, then leaned against it, the picture of the arrogant but annoyed thug leaning on a streetlight no one could see. "What're we going to do about this?"

Buffy chewed her lip for a second. "Get back in the car." She ran around and slid inside as well.

"This is all very cozy an' gypsy-like, but I don't want to live in the soddin' car."

"Shut up, I'm calling Giles. I hope he can answer."

* * *

"It's ringing! Answer it, answer it, answer it!" Willow literally leapt for joy and crashed into Xander's lap.

"She made it!"

Giles didn't share their youthful enthusiasm, nor did Joyce, who seemed to be turning a pale blue from lack of oxygen as she held her breath. If she was calling, it meant she'd arrived safely, or they had a problem.

Or as it turned out, both.

"Hello?"

"Oh man is it good to talk to you!" Buffy's face split into a wide grin, and Spike harrumphed loudly. "We have a little problem."

"She's fine." Giles turned from the now clamoring figures who were all lunging for the phone in his hand. "Hang on! She has something she needs my help with. What is it? Are you okay? Were you followed?"

"Only by ridiculous amounts of big trucks and construction. We're fine."

"No, we're not!" Spike shouted over her shoulder. "Little problem my arse!"

"What's the matter?" Giles took several hasty steps away, unless they overheard the vampire's voice. He was putting off telling them who Buffy's hired muscle was. Possibly forever.

Spike wrestled the phone from Buffy's grip. "Guess who can't get inside the soddin' house in the sticks, Watcher?"

Giles felt like screaming, cursing, or ripping something apart with his bare hands. Preferably all of those options. "God dammit! How could I be so stupid? Overlook one tiny, crucial detail, of all the idiotic, incredibly important..." He trailed off, anger at his own foolishness choking his voice.

Buffy took the phone back with a murderous glare at Spike. "Don't blame yourself, you had so much to do in like, _no time_. But we do kinda have a problem. He can't get in, and I don't know what to do. I mean- we could stay someplace else, yeah, but where can we go that you think we won't get noticed and that he can get into without an invite from the owner? A hotel I guess. I don't know if we have money for a hotel room, do we? Not for weeks."

"I'm not spendin' a fortnight in a hotel room with her. Unless it's a ruddy big hotel room, so I don't have to look at her all the time." Spike said sharply, jabbing a finger at the phone.

"You'll do what you have to or you'll sleep in the nice sunny forest." Buffy hissed and pushed his jabbing finger away.

"What's the matter? Can we say hi?" Willow asked anxiously.

"Something's wrong. Something's wrong, I knew I should have gone with her!" Joyce cried and put her head in her hands.

"All of you be quiet! I need a moment to think, and I need- a little privacy." Giles quickly marched into the kitchen, and then kept a wary eye on the trio in the living room as they stood nervously in the center of it.

Buffy twisted a strand of mussed hair and suggested,"Can you call your friend and ask him to-"

"He's just left on a lecture tour." Giles rubbed his brow. "And I don't know where he's staying, they forwarded his call..." He racked his brains. Vacant houses, de-invites, spells to open doorways- nothing worked to let a vampire in a home, even a home when the owner was away on business -except the owner's express invitation. _He asked me to stay, not them, and he said- _He blinked. "Buffy, give him the phone, I want to try something."

"Here." Buffy let Spike take the mobile.

"Spike, I invite you in to my Shore Side residence- as long as it belongs to me."

"What?" Spike gave the phone a dubious look. "Think he's sloshed." He whispered to his companion.

"I am not, now go try the bloody door." Giles huffed.

"Here we go. Oh, this should be fun. Slayer's never felt a 'you can't come in zap' before." Spike revved the car up and put it in drive, gleefully watching Buffy wince and brace- and the car went cleanly into the garage. Spike cursed and slammed on the brakes to prevent from exiting the building on the other side. "How the hell-"

"My friend said, 'My place is your place'. And when you leave, don't worry, I'll make sure it's his place again. _Just _his." Giles said grimly.

"You don't have to worry, Watcher, I won't hassle your little friend. I don't like to do the sunshine, fresh air, healthy livin' crap. Not my style."

"You go, Watcher-mine!" Buffy stepped out of the car and seized the phone again. "How'd you do it?"

"My friend 'gave me' his home. 'My place is your place', a common expression of welcome, but magic doesn't understand idiomatic language."

"Idiots sure shouldn't do spells, I'll give you that." Buffy agreed.

Giles laughed and sauntered back into the living room, tension knots easing out of his spine and shoulders. "Idiomatic, not idiotic. There's a difference. But none of that matters. You're safe now. Here. Your mother wants to say hello."

* * *

"Hello?" Wesley rubbed his eyes. Heavens, it must be urgent, it was the middle of the night!

"I want you to examine her body."

"Pardon?" He was instantly upright.

"She's not dead. Not yet. Maybe they mistook her for dead, but Slayers can withstand so much. She must have a very faint spark of life left. And I want you to snuff it."

Wesley almost vomited down his pressed, pinstriped pajamas. The madness in the man's voice had been so perfectly apparent then, and he hadn't had the recorder ready. "I can't."

"Don't be a fool! It's not as if I've asked you to battle her hand to hand, simply finish the job."

"I mean, there is no body."

Travers paused. "You said she died."

"She has. She chased the demon into the building right before it blew up. Waves of fire, an explosion- the building began to fall down, there were-"

"Spare me the poetry, Wyndham-Pryce." Travers said harshly. "So, she's trapped inside?"

"I- I hope not." Wesley tried to silently bring his phone and the tape together. "The police said no one could possibly survive."

"Have they checked the wreckage? Slayers are like roaches- so difficult to kill by ordinary means."

_You foul little man..._"The heat was too intense, and the building too unsound. It's most likely rubble now, but I haven't been back to check."

"Then go back and check. She must be alive."

"Why do you say that, Sir?"

"No one's been called to replace her! I've been up all night, called every Watcher in the world, and none of the girls we have under observation have been called!"

"Doesn't it often take a few days to be sure? Maybe she hasn't come into full realization of her abilities, looking normal to the outsider." Wesley stalled.

"Hmm. Possibly." Travers conceded after a moment's thought.

"It could be a girl who hasn't been recognized as having the potential to be called yet. It is sometimes."

"Highly unlikely. We're much better about surveillance than we used to be."

"Still, it did happen. In Stockholm in- was it 1897? And what about that girl, what was her name, the one who was only active for a month before she fell into a den of-"

"Yes, yes I suppose it's possible!" Travers cut him off with a snappish shout. He wanted this over. He wanted to begin again, immediately, enough delays, he'd been delayed for years."Very well. We'll have to utilize all our inactive agents to locate an unidentified potential if I don't see a Call in the next day. Such a waste of manpower! But you, Wesley," he slipped the name in, pandering to the man's ego, garnering the loyalty her needed "you go, and you find that body. If she's not dead, make it so."

* * *

"So long, Slayer." Spike put his duffle on the couch, and his coat on the kitchen chair and made for the back door.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Buffy stopped inspecting the living room and followed him to the rear of the house. "Not that I don't love the idea of you not being here, but Giles said he promised you something you couldn't pass up for doing this job." Buffy slammed the door shut as he reached for the handle. "I don't know exactly what it does, but I know you don't get it if you don't do it."

Spike's face transformed with a sudden deft twist of his neck. "I'm _hungry_." His yellow eyes warned that if not fed soon, fed what his demon needed, he might be tempted to take it out of her peach fleshed container.

Buffy's face transformed as well, hardened, Slayer, not teenager. "You don't kill any people. Part of the truce."

"I know. So..." He suddenly lost his craggier front, and gave her a worried stare he tried to hide. "I'm going to go try to- catch a deer."

"A deer? Bambi? You're going to catch a Bambi?" Buffy's eyes widened.

"I hope so- never tried this before. Don't feed off animals."

"You can't kill a poor little deer!" Buffy blinked sorrowfully, a pout trying to work its way up.

"Would you like me to kill a poor little prisoner of suburbia instead?"

"No! You could just go to the ... butcher... and-" Spike gave her a pitying stare, that screamed "Do you hear yourself?' "Right. Yeah, go get dinner. Just don't bring back the head, okay? That freaks me out."

"I'm not takin' any trophies, Slayer, and tomorrow we hit up a store for some of the red stuff."

"No kidding. There is _nothing_ in this fridge." Buffy peeked her head into the door.

"Watcher packed a few things. For _you _at any rate." Spike shook out his shoulders. "Alright, you stay here, get cozy. Don't open the door to-" It was his turn to get the pitying look, topped off with his own internal cursing. He was talking to her like she was some helpless child trapped in a woman's body. Prolly 'cause he'd done a fair bit of the mollycoddling speech to Dru in the past, and it was easy to slip back into the mindset. "Right. If a nasty comes in, don't muck about. Decapitate first, ask questions second."

"Got it. Have fun chasing dinner."

"Have fun not being it."

* * *

Buffy dragged her bags in, then the weaponry, and spent time sorting some to leave in the car and some to stash in various places in the house, and nibbled on crackers and bottled water that Giles had stashed for her in the car.

She felt better for having talked to all of them, even though it had been brief, and thinking about them soothed her jumpy nerves now as she prowled through the mainly darkened house, picking out a bedroom, checking every closet, every patch of shadow, slayer senses in overdrive to search for any hidden hunters.

* * *

"Blach!" Fur in his mouth, covered in dirt, and kicked smartly in the stomach, nearly got himself gored, and nearly got an eye taken out as well. And it took hours. _Hours._ For _him_, the finest hunter in the world, with the super speed, super reflexes, sonic hearing, and amazing bloodhound senses.

At least he was full. He trudged back to the house, leaving the buck in the undergrowth, spitting out little brown hairs and looking at the hole in his shirt.

* * *

Buffy, exhausted beyond reason, had spent hours pacing the house, looking at everything, spending a ridiculous amount of time looking for Spike to reappear, and beginning to dial her phone, then hanging it up. They weren't supposed to call much. A few words a piece after the great vampire invitation fiasco.

Earlier...

_"Baby, are you okay? Are you safe? Do you need anything?"_

_ "I'm fine, Mom. Tired and I need a bath. Hey, I learned to - uh- navigate really well." _Buffy didn't want to increase the likelihood of a stroke if her mom found out she'd been driving without a license.

_ "Where are you?"_

_ "I- Giles knows, Mom."_

_ "Who are you with?"_

_ "Um. He's um- hey, are Will and Xander there?"_

_ "Buffster!"_

_ "Buffy, thank God you're okay! You are, right? Oh my God, Giles, they could be holding a gun to her head, making her say she's okay, and she isn't! Buffy, if you're a hostage, say- um- wait, they'd be listening in, wouldn't they?"_

_ "Willow, calm down!" Xander soothed._

_ "Will, seriously, they would just - well, they wouldn't let me call first. So I'm fine."_

_ Xander's voice took over. "The guy who has your back? Is he nice? Is he tough? Do I need to come up? Or down or over? Where are you?"_

_ "Xan... what'd I tell you?"_

_ "I'm just checking! Tell me he's good and he's a totally 'throw myself into the fray and take out the second shooter' type of guy and I'll relax. A little."_

_ "He likes to get fighty, I'll give him that..."_

Now...

The door slammed and shattered her mental escape. Spike limped in, face dirt streaked and scowling, a trace of blood of over one eye. His hand clutched his side, where torn black fabric revealed a jagged round wound.

"Spike! Oh my God! How many were there?" Buffy cried, and rushed forward.

"Oh just one, but he was a big son of a bitch. Horns, hooves, running me blind, trackin' him an' chasin' him for hours. God, he might've broken a rib when I finally wrestled him down." He looked at his side with a wince.

"How'd he get onto us so fast? Was it like- a teleporter demon? He could just jump to wherever we are? Or one that can, I don't know, lock into your brain waves? Are there demons who do that?"

"Uh... there are some, yeah. Mainly in other dimensions."

"So they got them from another dimension? What kind of pull does Travers have?" Buffy yelped, helping Spike into a seat at the kitchen table, her battlefield triage skills kicking in without consideration for who she was tending, just that it was someone on her side, injured protecting her. "I mean I'm flattered- in a scared out of my mind way, but-"

"What are you talkin' about?" Spike stopped her ministrations, sitting up, and wiping blood out of his eye.

"The demon that attacked you!"

"It was a buck! Ruddy big one, six pointer. Well, five now- think one might be in my side."

"A _deer_? You got beat up by your dinner?" Buffy turned from the sink where she was soaking a dishtowel in cold water.

"You try wrestlin' a steer for your hamburger, and we'll see how you do." Spike snapped. He caught a wet towel in the face. "Oi! Easy."

"If you think you can survive the aftermath of _When Bambi Attacks_, I'm gonna have a shower and get some sleep. Sleep not interrupted by annoying grunge metal rock and your cigarette addiction."

_Ooooh._ "So sweet of you to wait up for me, Slayer." He tossed out with a fake-sugar tone. "Makes me feel all warm and snuggly."

"Shut up." She left the room, without a backward glance.

He stared after her. _She did wait up for me. Well, only to make sure she wasn't next for the chop. Still. She did wait up for me. _He pressed the wet towel to his injured eye, wondering if now he'd have a matching set of scars, one for each side.

Dru never waited up. Not once. He'd come home or he wouldn't, and the little pixies playing in her head told her it was all a silly game of hide and seek, waiting for him to pop up, like some lovesick jack in the box.

_That'll change. All I gotta do is keep blondie alive, and I get my girl. The way I've always imagined she could be. _

Despite the thoroughly unpalatable situation he found himself in, Spike sat up, keeping watch, with a wistful smile on his face.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: For those of you eagerly awaiting smut- you're gonna have to keep eagerly awaiting. There's no way Spike and Buffy see each other as sexual partners yet, they're just starting to see each other as something other than enemies. Bear with me, we'll get there._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season three's dialogue will be used._

_Dedicated to: Spike is the BIG BAD, Alexiarrose, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Sirius120, ShyL, Alottalove, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, micmoc, ammuna, Seapea, rororogers, jackiemack916,Touch the Dark, Skeezixx, ValidescopeWest, Mike13z50, Rachel, Cavementftw, hbmckidd, and Blade Redwind._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part VI**

_Day Two..._

"You're up, I'm goin' to bed. Stay in the house." Spike got off the couch as Buffy's footsteps were heard on the stairs.

"Thank you, Warden." Buffy snarled sarcastically, still overtired and punchy. Plus she was talking to _Spike_. "Don't you think you're taking this a little too seriously?"

"You're the one with a bullseye on your back, not me." Spike passed her in the living room.

"I mean with telling me not to go outside. I don't think Travers is going to have his bogeymen outside in broad daylight." _I hope_.

"Who said it had to be a bogeyman? There are demons who can tolerate the sun. But not the stares from the neighbors, so good point. Point bein' you have to go where I go, or I don't have your back, Slayer."

Buffy whirled around and began following him up the steps. "Whoa. You may be helping, but you do_ not_ have my back."

"Yeah? Why's that?" Spike bridled. He hated this damn job, but he was doing it, and for a very, very worthy cause, so he was doing it with all the best in himself. Alright, not the _best_, but the best he could muster considering he'd like to rip her little green eyes out and watch the birds eat them.

"You're just doing a job. When you have someone's back, you-" She gave up the explanation. You couldn't describe that, you just_ felt_ it. "I'm telling you, you just don't have it. So don't act like we're all buddy-buddy." She didn't want him here. She wanted her real partner, the man who was always supposed to have her back. The one who said he'd love her forever, never let anything happen to her...

"Nothing could be further from my mind." He felt a hot rush of anger inside him. She twisted a simple phrase and made it mean something more. He'd never be more, it was always only business. He had protested that fact to Drusilla so many times, that it was ever only a matter of business...

"Good. So drop the act."

"I will. You should've had your honey do this little job, Slayer. _Ex_-honey, that is." He turned his back on her, a sneer instantly forming when she couldn't see it any longer. "After all, you two were supposed to be such good _friends_ nowadays."

_He was. He was supposed to be my friend. And my lover. If he couldn't be one, he should at least try to be the other. God knows I tried to be everything he ever asked me to be. _"You-" She seethed, she wanted words to hurl back at him, angry words, words that would sting like his did. They didn't come out, halted by a simple thought, _He's doing this job, that he hates, so he can get something to heal Drusilla. Broken up or not, friends or not- man, he still would do anything for her. _

_I thought I had that. Guess I was wrong._ "You better not talk to me right now. And for as long as possible after that."

"Pleasure." He'd expected more fight from her. Maybe the knife went in well and truly that time. Fine. Good. Deserved it. He could protect her, didn't mean they had to be nice, right. "We're going to the shops after sunset. Be ready, alright?"

"I'll go now." Buffy muttered.

"Stay. With. _Me_." Spike leapt the entire flight easily, crashing down an inch from her toes, walls rattling under tribal artifacts adorning them. "I don't have your back, fine, but what I _do_ have is a job. An' I'll do it. I can't go in the daylight, but I'll bloody well go anywhere you need in the darkness, do you understand?"

"Back. Up." Buffy put her palm flat to his chest and pushed. "You protect me from Travers' goons, but you do not get to 'boss me around' because you want this thing from Giles and you want to tell him you did such a great job."

"If I don't do a great job, you're dead, Cutie!"

"Don't call me that!"

Nose to nose, and both really ready to break into ass-kicking mode, Buffy suddenly drew back. "This house belongs to some museum friend of Giles' from forever ago. We're not supposed to mess up the place."

"Tell me you don't do that to a bloke in bed." Spike suddenly said, stepping back as well.

"Ew, what?" Buffy yelped, and fell over her own feet to get farther away from him.

"Rev him all up and then stop. I bet you do. Tease."

Buffy's hand was out, and around his throat, as she lifted him up, so his feet barely skimmed the hardwood floor. "Never, _ever_ talk to me like that, say things about- _that_- ever again." She hissed.

Spike laughed, a choked, gurgling sound owing to her hand. "Sore point?"

She dropped him to the ground and stood over him, fingers flexed. "I said no staking you, but twisting your head until it snaps off like Sun-Allergy Ken's? So doable."

He wouldn't be cowed by her, this was his favor, not hers. "Fine. Make me all dusty. Vacuum me up before the art lover comes home. But you're the one who couldn't even drive in a soddin' straight line. You're the one who's goin' to have to go out an' get groceries on your own. Hope you like backing out of a garage with a clearance of about a foot on either side. Hope there's not too many one way streets, blind curves, or high curbs in this little burg. Oh, and I hope you have a map back to this place, because there's so much bleedin' wildlife outside that the trail of breadcrumbs you leave would be eaten up by the time you're ready to come home."

"You don't scare me." She whispered disdainfully. Okay, he worried the crap out of her, because if she took out the garage of the nice man loaning them his house, there would be all sorts of annoying things, insurance people, nosy neighbors, policeman asking questions and snoopily realizing her fake ID was made out of cardboard and laminator sheets. But she wasn't _scared_.

"How 'bout brass you off? Do I do that? Huh?" He bounced back to the balls of his feet, the sneer turned to a leer. "Make your blood boil?"

Buffy shook her head. "Do you get some kind of sick thrill out of confrontation?"

"Don't you?" He asked incredulously.

"Not really." She shook her head, eyes narrowing warningly.

"And that's why-" the leer turned into something that was _almost_ a genuine smile, "you need me."

Buffy opened her mouth twice, but failed to speak. She walked away, shaking her head, a hand to her temple. "Doesn't even have to punch me, and my head hurts..."

"I'm gifted!" Spike called from the staircase as he tried to get up them for the second time.

Buffy went into the kitchen, and dove into the box of supplies Giles had sent. "C'mon. C'mon, you had to have known I'd need them after a couple hours with him, let alone a couple days - oh God bless his polished wingtips." Buffy seized on a bottle of aspirin eagerly and popped two in her mouth without even getting a glass of water to chase them down. "Okay, pain relievers. Now- why isn't there any peanut butter in this box?"

* * *

"Have you eaten?"

"No." Giles said tersely.

"You look horrible."

"And you look like someone who's had a failed lobotomy." Giles pulled the car into the black streaked parking spaces in front of what used to be a high school. Police, considerably fewer than the past several days, were still milling about.

"I had two stitches." Wesley was rather proud of that. "The doctor said to keep the wound covered for two to three days."

"You have a bald spot, don't you?"

"It shows?" Wesley hissed, and clamped a hand to the gauze covering half his scalp.

"Shut up." Giles muttered from the corner of his mouth as they neared the strings of yellow caution tape.

"You shouldn't be here!" Wesley hissed.

"You honestly think Travers would believe that I, the man he accused of loving her as a father, wouldn't be down here, searching for her, or trying to find her remains and provide some closure for her grieving mother?"

Wesley nodded thoughtfully. "Did she contact the father?"

"His office says he's closing a merger in Japan. The hotel operator's English is limited to 'What room please?' and 'Fresh towels, press nine.' As we don't know his room number and 'Connect us to Hank Summers' room, please' seems to equal us being hung up on, leaving a message isn't a possibility."

"We really must- oh. Here we are. Pardon me, P.C.- ah Smith," he checked the badge, "we were wondering if-"

"It's _Sergeant _Smith, and if you have questions, you need to join the line over there." He pointed to the right. "If you want to check the list of missing and reclaimed persons- it's three cars over to your right."

"Now see here-" Wesley bridled.

"Come along, don't annoy the nice man with a gun." Giles dragged him off to the left.

"Honestly, why they let American police have handguns-"

"It's because they drink coffee instead of tea, caffeine and violence go so well together." Giles snapped and almost ran to the posting board.

"You've been drinking an awful lot of it I see." Wesley pulled his arm free and massaged it. "Pardon me. Pardon us!" He said in his most haughty and commanding tones, trying to get them to the front of the line. Giles elbowed him. "What now?"

"These people have lost their _children_!" Giles cried. "Oh Lord. It's Mr. and Mrs. Kendall." Giles extended his hand, "Mrs. Kendall, Mr. Kendall, I'm so-" A blonde couple pushed past him, weeping. "Mr. Blaisdell..." He recognized the football player's father, but the man seemed unable to hear him, muttering "Nothing again today..." to himself as he stumbled off.

Wesley looked around with fresh eyes, and watched his companion, a man he'd tried not to look up to, yet somehow grudgingly had begun to anyway, suddenly lose his briskness. He suddenly looked older, softer.

"Buffy Summers... Missing. No body claimed." Giles murmured, hand sliding down the paper bearing two short columns of names.

"We have two unidentified males. I'm sorry. No females." A soft voice interrupted them. Wesley turned to see a police woman coming over with a clipboard. She made a note next to a name on the board, and stared at them. "If you'd like, we can put you in touch with..."

Giles walked away from them, glassy eyed._ It could so easily have been her. For real. It has been once before. _

_ So very easily. All those children... All somebody's children._ His eyes suddenly prickled uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry, I have to go." Wesley murmured to the officer and limped after the other Watcher.

* * *

"Did you go look for her?"

"Yes." Wesley kept his answers short. He didn't have the energy, or the will, to make nice with Travers. He delivered Giles back to his flat, and left him in the care of a red eyed Willow, a silent Oz, and a grim faced Harris. They wouldn't be able to talk openly because Oz was present, but somehow he didn't think the other man would mind. Those children were his life. Buffy was something beyond that.

Now he was speaking to the man who would so callously murder her. "The police have the building roped off. However-" he swallowed, "the area Buffy was to have lead the mayor into has collapsed. There is no way a human being could survive in there. Slayers aren't fireproof, nor can they withstand the weight of thousands of pounds of rubble." He fought the vomit rising in his esophagus back down. "She's gone."

"Her body? Was it found in the wreckage?"

_Bastard._ "All that remains is ash."

"That is very unfortunate." He sighed deeply. "No one new has come to my attention. I have calls to make. I'll call you tomorrow if I've learned when her replacement is to arrive." Travers hung up.

Wesley played back the tape, two times, then three. Nothing incriminating there. All words could be taken as those of a factual man, a preoccupied man. A busy man who needed an active slayer, not for his own sick plans, but because he was in charge of the Council. "Blast." Wesley put his head in his hands. Was he becoming mistrustful? The other tapes had piles of damning evidence.

_Piles, yes. But we may need mountains to take down Travers._

* * *

_Day Three..._

"Did you do somethin' bad to the old man?"

"Huh?" Buffy woke up and walked from her room- straight into Accusation-Ville. Spike was blocking her inside the masculine master bedroom, all cigarettes and antsy movements.

"Did you? Did you use a teabag instead of looseleaf? Did you spit on his card catalog? Did you tell him tweed is just plaid for the stuck up man?" Spike sounded desperate and a little deranged.

"Uh... no. Now let's play random questions for you." Buffy looked at him worriedly. "Did you go fight the little furry friends last night?" He snorted. "Can vampires get rabies? Maybe that deer who kicked your ass was sick. Did you get blood that came from one of those crazy cows? Did you walk into the totem pole thingy he has by the coatrack? No, that's not so stupid, 'cause I have to say, I tripped over it last night, too, it's totally in the way. Really, who puts a-" She stopped abruptly as Spike's fingers suddenly shot out around her upper arms and shook her lightly.

"Four channels! _Four_! The mountain news. The fishing news! The news-news! An' the bloody Spanish channel!"

"Oh." Buffy blinked. "Man. That sucks." She frowned, then looked horrified."No cable?"

He was in a frenzy and didn't answer her, just plowed on."Six hours of hearin' about salmon prices and timber shortages and politicians preparing for fire safety initiatives in the coming summer!" Spike raked his chipping nails through his already rumpled platinum locks.

"So try the Spanish channel?" Buffy suggested lamely. That apparently was not the right answer.

"I'm gonna go mad! I need- I need to kill somethin' I need to fight somethin'!"

"It's daylight. Go sleep and dream about beating up big monsters. Or Bullwinkle." Buffy managed a small chuckle and ducked under his arm.

"That was a moose, not a deer!" Spike hollered after her, and then followed her down.

"Go away." Buffy said simply.

"No." He said, equally simplistic.

"I'm not fighting with you in the house. And don't try some big vampy lunge to make me, I'll just kill you." Buffy moved to the kitchen and the now stocked fridge. She took out bread and got peanut butter from the counter.

"Who said I wanted to fight?" He asked irritably.

"You just did."

"Oh. Well..._ not you_. Not now." He sat on the counter. She took her food to the table. He sat on its edge. She glared. He glared back.

"Oh my God. I'm calling Giles."

* * *

"Hello?"

"He won't stop invading my space."

"It's a two bedroom house. There's a yard that opens up into a majestic wilderness. There's a basement. There's a library off the living room. Go find space."

"I miss you. I miss Mom and the guys. I want to know what's going on."

"I want to tell you, and we miss you, too, deeply." Giles sighed. "But Wesley and I are going through the Council rolls, ostensibly while we plan a memorial service for you, to ease the burden on your mother."

"Can you guys call me tonight?" Her voice was so small and lonely.

"Of course." He comforted.

* * *

_An hour later..._

"She won't come in the house."

"What?" Giles almost dropped the tape recorder, and Wesley glared bloody murder at him as he had to make a dive to steady it.

"She won't come in the house! She knows I have to watch her, and Mr. Sun's pokin' his head out of the happy little forest, so I can't go outside."

"What?" Giles repeated, the world, already nonsensical, was still finding ways to deepen his disbelief.

"Your Slayer. Is outside. Because I can't go out there, and she wants me to stay away. It's my job to stay with!"

"Put her on." Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. He heard a deafening bellow.

"Oi! Your old man wants you! In the house, now!"

He heard a fainter, more high-pitched whine, "You tattled on me? What are you, four?"

"Pryce?" Giles put the phone on his chest and looked pathetically at Wesley.

"Giles?"

"Be a good chap and fetch me the aspirin- oh damn, I sent it along with her. Be a good chap and fetch me a brandy instead."

* * *

_Three hours later..._

"He's grossing me out."

"Is this an emergency?"

"If I barf everywhere, on the nice weird museum-y stuff, it might be." Buffy said petulantly.

"I forbid you to touch Geoff's personal collection!"

"Tell Spike. He found a skull on a necklace or a belt or something and he's threatening to reenact how he and Princess Whackjob used to drink blood toasts."

"Ignore him."

"Ignore _Spike_? That's like saying 'Go cool off in a nuclear reactor'."

"It's nearly dark. Have him patrol the place. You go upstairs, lock yourself in your room, and wait for my call. I'll be at your mother's soon."

* * *

_Day Four..._

"She knocked it over. An entire day's worth. Puttin' the milk back in the fridge, and oops, big quart container, hits the floor, lid pops off, blood everywhere. She did it on purpose."

"Hey! Don't listen to him! I had to do it with my eyes shut because the smoke in the kitchen was so thick I couldn't open them without burning my eyeballs out!"

"_I'll_ burn your eyeballs out, Sweetheart, just gimme a chance!"

"Enough! It is six in the morning, why are you both up? Why are you both arguing? You're behaving like children!" Giles shouted, leaning heavily on his desk, bathrobe undone and glasses in a nest of graying hair.

"She is a child!"

"He acts like one!"

"_Silence_!" Giles voice was rich and roaring, and enough to cow Buffy- at least momentarily. "While you're complaining about being on each other's nerves- your mother has been visited by the police. She's had to fill out statements and forms stating you, her only child- are dead."

Buffy looked abjectly miserable, and to her surprise, saw Spike look suddenly uncomfortable as well. "I talked to her last night, I-"

"Let me finish." Giles sat in his desk chair. "Your best friends are living in grief-stricken silence because they're afraid to say the wrong thing. Wesley's been taking his life in his hands, recording Travers' conversations, and we're pretty sure he's about to send a team to investigate your death, because a new slayer hasn't emerged. You are fleeing for your_ life_!"

Buffy nodded, realized he couldn't see it, and whispered, "I know. You're right." She also realized he didn't say anything about himself, what he was going through. He never did. He asked dozens of questions about her, never volunteered any information about his own fears or struggles. "I'm sorry. I'll do better."

"It's not merely you. Spike- "

"I'm half-starved, Watcher, and she ruined my intake for the day. Haven't fed properly for almost a week at this point. Do you know what that does to a vamp? I can't feed again until dark, whether it's by drainin' a deer or drivin' to the market when the sun's down. Don't bitch to me about how hard you work to cover her tracks, it was your ruddy plan, an' I'm doin' my part. I keep watch an' I haven't killed her myself."

"Like you could." Buffy couldn't stop herself from muttering.

"Don't tempt me, Sunshine." Spike growled.

"That does it." Giles lost his calm, and this time it stayed gone for longer than just one word. "Spike, so help me, if Buffy calls once more with a complaint about your behavior, I'll smash the Eye and tell Buffy to stake you, and she'll listen, because she knows I'm her _real_ bloody Watcher and I'd never steer her wrong. Buffy, if you don't behave like the mature young woman I know you are, even in a crisis, and Spike has to call me to talk sense into you- I- I'll go through your closet and I'll mix all the darks and lights and wash everything on hot and then spray paint them. An entire wardrobe gone in a snap and I'll insist your mother let me replace it all. I believe Harris Tweed makes a lovely line of smocks and kilts." He threatened in a near deranged rush.

"NO!" Buffy and Spike were suddenly united.

"Take it easy, Watcher." Spike soothed. "Don't do anything rash."

"We'll let you sleep now. Nice, calming, happy-making sleep." Buffy wheedled. "Dream of books leaping into alphabetical order. Just don't go near my closet."

"Or my mojo maker." Spike added.

Giles took several deep breaths. "You have to work together. Only temporarily, but you_ must_. "

"We will." They both lied. They exchanged a look that communicated effectively as any words. An almost conspiratorial look that meant "Nothing changes, but we don't have to tell _him_ about it."

"No, no." Giles settled his glasses on his nose. "You can't simply say you will, and then not make any effort, because that isn't working together, and it won't keep anyone safe."

Buffy pulled away from Spike and whispered into the phone, "Okay, maybe not, but how do you suddenly expect us to start cooperating? I mean, yeah, if you throw a big nasty at us, we'll kill it. Ask us to spend a week or more alone and we're going to pick each other apart and verbally beat the crap out of each other. And that's before losing it the crap beating gets physical. It's what sworn enemies do."

"I thought you had a truce in place? Besides the offer I made Spike, which he accepted." He made his tone extra pointed for the vampire's benefit.

"We do. But they usually end after a few days. This is draggin' on with no end in sight." Spike grumped sourly.

Giles wracked his brains. Short of dangling them over a life-threatening situation, he couldn't think of anything that would make such polar opposites be willing to keep the waspishness to a minimum and let him have more than three hours of sleep at a stretch. Unless... He had a horrible idea, oh curse the professional development seminars Principal Flutie forced all the teachers to attend, but he _was _desperate.

Giles let out an extremely exhausted sigh. "Buffy, dear, I have something I want you to do. If I recall, in the library, there's a desk. On the top there should be some stationary and some pens about there as well. I want you to go get a sheet of paper and a pen."

"Is this some spell of cooperation we're writing down?" Buffy asked, heading to the library, Spike following her.

"Oh, maybe it's the recipe for some anti-annoying spell. One that makes your mouth disappear." Spike mumbled.

"I want you to take at least one hour- and write down a list of everything you have in common."

"What?" Both blondes were in shock.

"Giles, this isn't a class about making new friends, this is Spike."

"You will find more common ground, and you will stop actively trying to injure one another for at least an hour." Giles was unshaken in his decree. "I'll call back this afternoon and I want to hear the list."

"It's going to have nothing on it, there won't be anything to hear." Buffy said desperately. "This is something guidance counselors make you do when you have a fight with a classmate. Slayers and vampires can _not _suddenly be best friends."

"I know that, and God forbid you should try to achieve such a thing. But I want you to try this simple little exercise." He insisted patiently. "At the workshop I attended I heard that this was a starting point that worked for people who'd had fifteen years of professional disagreements and married couples who'd not spoken in six months. It's meant to create some feeling of joint interest, however minor. It's a beginning, and it will stall the animosity- at least for one hour." He propped his overtired head in his hand. "Could you do that for me? Please?"

"I said I'd protect her scrawny little ass, not play word games."

"Spike- Eye. Buffy- Clothes. _And_ I'll tell your mother you're driving without a license."

Buffy swallowed. "Don't just stand there, find some pens." She addressed Spike.

"Grab that paper." He raided the top drawer.

"Proof that there is a God." Giles closed his phone, and crashed onto his couch, deciding he couldn't make the flight of stairs up to his bed before he fell asleep.

* * *

They sat on the couch- as far apart as possible. "You write."

"Why me?" Buffy demanded.

"I'm the muscle."

"So now I'm the brains?" Buffy goaded, a sudden hint of a smile on her face.

"Hell no. Give me that." Spike snatched the paper and a pen from her hand with a swift tug.

"We'll switch halfway through. See, that's compromise."

"I don't want to compromise, I just want to keep him sane so he doesn't smash the Eye." Spike grouched.

"Oooh, put that. No Giles insanity."

"My motives aren't pure." He reminded her.

"That doesn't matter, it's in common, and it's going down." Buffy pointed to the paper across his knee.

"A list of one. Joy." Spike dashed off the words.

"We'll find more." Buffy said.

But that raised a question. How would they find more items for the list? Because as one, without communication, they seemed to refuse to speak to each other.

"Why couldn't he have done the silent treatment yesterday?" Buffy mumbled to herself, leaning back over the arm of the couch, hands scrubbing at her face.

Spike stared at her with a scowl, then some sort of surprise. She was still in her nightwear, a teeshirt, ripped off at the thigh sweats. Leaning back made her spine arch and her tanned skin expose, lean, lithe, a perfect little ribcage.

"Strong." Spike said one word.

Buffy sat up slowly, hands leaving her face. She watched him bow his head, writing the one word, pen grasped in curled white fingers. "Need to do our nails."

Spike's head jerked up, ready to tell her to shut her face and stop mocking- when he saw that she was looking at his chipped black polish, then her own bare nails with a woeful look on her face. "Right. Hate being here."

"Underline that." Buffy almost smiled.

He did. He handed her the pen and paper. "Switch."

"We said halfway!"

"We've got four things down. I think a list of eight might be impossible, so..."

"Good point."

More silent staring, wracking their brains. "This is bloody stupid."

"Oooh, I can put that down. We both think this is stupid." Buffy wrote, saying it aloud as the pen made the words.

"_Bloody_ stupid."

"Bloody stupid." She put in parentheses. "Wow. A whole five."

"I don't see how this is going to stop making us want to murder each other."

"It worked for ten minutes." Buffy did another almost smile.

"Yeah, well, ten minutes is all well and good, but I'm goin' stir crazy. I thought there'd be a bit more action in this gig."

"Me, too. I'm kind of relieved there isn't, but yeah... restless."

"Spoilin' for a fight."

"No... just some kind of workout. Giles and I used to train a couple times a week and then Angel and I-" Her words stopped as if she was a recording and someone had disconnected her.

"Put desperate for some action." Spike prompted quietly.

"Right." Buffy gratefully seized on that, glad he left it alone.

He hadn't, just had a momentary spark of consideration. Curiosity was stronger. "Why isn't he here?"

"He had to leave town." She said with a shrug.

"They after him, too?"

"No." Buffy used a tone she hoped would give him the hint that this was_ not_ a welcome topic.

Sometimes he preferred to be obtuse. "Watcher said on grounds of moral temptation. 'Fraid he'd crack with the bloodlust?"

"No. With regular lust." Buffy slammed the pen and paper back into his chest. "Six. Yippee for us, we have six." She stood up and prepared to walk away.

"Seven. Both hate Angelus." Spike replied to her outburst calmly.

Buffy spun back around. "Don't put that! That's a lie. I _love_ Angel, I hate Angelus, and you're the opposite."

"No," he said with a patient, condescending tone, "I hate _both_. But I'm only putting down the one we have in common, as ordered by the cranky camp counselor."

Buffy reluctantly sat back down. "Oh."

"Yeah. _Oh_." She didn't ask him why, she knew. Just like he knew a few things, and it didn't stop him from rubbing salt in the wound. Must be why she was the good guy, and he was the bad guy. It gave him a momentary flash of kindness and he tried to think of something positive. "Good fighters."

"Solid moves." Buffy was forced to concede. His backhanded compliment made her search for one of her own. "We look good in black." That was all he seemed to own, and it suited him. Kinda was a vampire dress code, but the cliche worked. Even the hair worked on him.

"I dunno..." Spike eyed her critically. "You look like a pinks and yellows sort to me."

"Well, I prefer pink and yellows, yeah, but you've gotta admit," Buffy leaned forward, and ran her hands over her legs, "I've got some pretty killer stealth wear."

"S'pose so. Okay, we look good in black. What's wrong?" Spike watched her get a horrified look on her face as her hands traveled over her bare legs.

"I forgot to pack razors. I'm going to get sandpapery soon." Buffy replied, then frowned and sealed her lips. _Please tell me I didn't just tell Spike I needed to shave my legs. No, I just implied it._

Spike rolled his eyes and spoke with heavy attitude. "We need to go back to the shops anyway. Since _someone _spilled my din-dins."

"Are you going to mention that all day?"

"Yes."

"Put stubborn." She tapped the page.

"You're calling yourself stubborn, Slayer."

"I already know I am. If I wasn't stubborn, I'd be dead. Well, dead _again_."

"Oh, hey, both died once." He jotted down.

"Yeah, now if only I'd ever been beaten up by a deer..." Buffy kidded.

"Ever been beaten up by a werewolf?"

"Just a little bit. Oz wasn't himself."

Spike chuckled and penned, "Faced werewolves."

"You killed some vamps before, right?"

"Prolly as many as you. But that's only fair, I've been mixin' it up with the undead set for bit over a hundred years, you've been doin' this job for four."

"Are you saying I'm better? My four year record equals your hundred plus record?"

"I'm sayin' I don't kill vamps unless I feel like it and I've got a reason. You do it 'cause it's your job." He handed her back the paper, and she took it, scribbling "Killed lots of vampires" on it. "Now if we were talkin' innocents, I'd be way ahead."

"Don't be disgusting."

"I don't consider it disgusting, I consider it part of my life." Spike reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of menthols. "You hunt vamps, I hunt Slayers. Killed two, tracked a dozen."

Buffy paused, then wrote something in small, guilty letters. Spike peered across, even daring to scoot closer to make it out.

_Tracked slayers_. "What do you mean?" Spike demanded.

"Faith." Buffy said simply.

"That's _one_ slayer, and what'd you track her for?"

"She tried to kill Angel. I tried to kill her." She whispered, pen crossing out the last "s" on slayers, making it singular.

"Cross it out. Put 'tried to kill one slayer, failed'."

"Who's your failure?" Buffy asked distractedly, copying his words onto the page.

"You." Spike leaned back and looked at her through the first puff of his freshly lit cigarette.

"Oh, right." Buffy blushed, feeling stupid for overlooking the obvious.

"Tried to kill her, huh? Really tried, or just 'Slap, slap, ow I broke a nail' tried?"

Buffy looked up at him with fixed eyes, not really seeing him, seeing herself, a lunge, a soft squish, the smell of instantly gushing blood. "I stuck a knife in her chest. I wanted to drain her blood, feed it to Angel. Slayer's Cure. It'd heal almost anything." She whispered.

Spike sat up again, this time with a deeply impressed look on his face. "Didn't work, I know that much."

She shifted her sloppily pulled back hair off her neck to show the deep gouges that were turning to white scars, a wound that would never totally fade. _Bit my neck. Broke my heart. Never really heals..._ "I found a way. I always do."

His hands stole across her legs, into her lap, and she barely realized it until he took the pen. She looked over his wrist and bowed head as he wrote with jagged black letters, _Do anything for the person we love._ And underneath, _Always find a way._

A distinctly odd feeling was coming over her, and she didn't like it. A feeling of something between feeling sorry for him, understanding him, or wanting to talk to him more. Clear proof that her brain was atrophying from lack of stimulation, and maybe dying from lack of protein. She could fix that.

Time for breakfast, the second take."You eat people food, right?"

"Yes, I'm half 'people' after all." Spike felt the sudden quiet sympathy he could've indulged in swept away. "You want me to add that? 'We both eat food'? Should I start listin' all the body parts we have in common as well? Maybe the fact that we can both sit down and stand up and touch our toes?"

"I wasn't trying to pad the list, Jerk-face. I was going to make peanut butter toast and I wondered if you wanted some." She said stiffly, recoiling inside herself, dodging from any thawing feelings she'd had. She walked from the room, not pausing this time, not looking back.

Spike followed her. "Does he have any Marmite?"

"What now?" Buffy was startled out of giving him the cold shoulder.

"This geezer's English." Spike began poking around the kitchen, getting in her way, but not obnoxiously this time. "Does he have Marmite- mm, Bovril." Spike pounced on the container as Buffy got out peanut butter for herself.

"Ewww. What is that stuff?" Buffy got a whiff of it as he passed her.

"It's delicious and I like it better than your crunched up nut paste." He countered. "Rather have Bovril than Marmite any day, but that's just me. You want a taste?"

"God- please no." Buffy backed up, holding her nose. "I'll stick to my Skippy, thank you."

They prepared their meals in relative quiet and ate them, him perched on the counter, her sitting primly at the table, both trying not to look at each other too much. Both thinking of nothing _but_ the other.

_Giles is smart. I don't like him better. But I _know_ him better. _

_Stupid idea really, but oddly effective. Only 'cause we wanted to play nice, mind you. If we really wanted to go at it, nothin' on earth would stop us. We're like that. _He had known it before. Now he knew it with unshakable certainty. That petite little thing with crumbs on her lips was as ruthless as he was- for the right motivation.

"Gonna go look at the books. Man has about two thousand in there, must be somethin' to read." Spike hopped down and headed off to the recently discovered library.

"Okay..." Buffy wanted to join him. Well, not join_ him_, but get a book. She'd have to wait now, she didn't want him to think she would follow him around like an extra shadow.

"Sorry, Slayer." Spike shouted down the hall several minutes later. "No picture books for you."

"Are you _that _restless? You have to resort to lame insults so I can kick your butt?"

"No, just tryin' to warn you." He laughed. Then paused. "Some big clearings about a mile into those woods."

Buffy emerged, sans toast, from the hall and stared into the library. "I'm lost now."

"If you wanna spar sometime, but not mess up the house, or have the neighbors report a brawl in the backyard... we could go there."

Her jaw fell so far she thought she might need to put it in a sling after this. "You want to train? With me?"

"Why not? No weapons!" His eyes suddenly widened.

"No fangs!" Buffy found herself making rules before she'd even officially agreed. "Are you that bored?"

"Yes." Spike ran a finger along the spines of the books on the shelf nearest him. "To add to my case-_ Indigenous Peoples of the American Northwest, Native Peoples of the Andes, Understanding Tribal Cultures, The Tribal Cultures of the Lakota, Artifacts Versus Oral Culture, A Treatise on the_-"

"Enough, enough, enough!" Buffy looked at the shelves in teenage horror. "Oh my God. It's Giles. It's Giles the Second."

"This has to be a work collection, he's gotta have something for relaxation someplace. Try your bedroom. Must have bookshelves in there."

"I'll look. Geez, you'd think he could have at least _one _Nancy Drew... Okay, maybe not that, but some Hardy Boys. _Something_ not terminally boring."

"Terminally boring puts it nicely." Spike gave her a lopsided smile, a single eyebrow raised. "Sparring?"

"Sparring as in 'secretly wanting to hurt me' sparring or sparring as in 'aerobics with contact' sparring?"

"If you hadn't said aerobics..." Spike winced and shook his head. "Sparring without intent to injure."

"Deal." _Amazing what you'll do if you're desperate enough..._

* * *

"Buffy, I want to apologize. I hadn't had enough sleep and I've been under a great deal of pressure. Upon reflection, I realized you're under just as much, if not more." Giles' apologetic voice caressed her ear like a comforting blanket. "We all behaved in most uncharacteristic ways. Sharing a dwelling with Spike must be awful for you, and not having any contact with your friends except for a daily, secretive phone call..." Giles shook his head. He should have known she just wanted to hear a familiar voice, not feel so alone and trapped, searching for something familiar with all those pointless phone calls... "I'm terribly sorry. Hrm. H-how did you two fare the rest of the day?"

"Okay-ish. Ate toast. He slept. I watched a report about replanting in deciduous timber belts. Your friend really needs to consider getting basic cable, or maybe satellite."

"I- uh- I'll mention that." Giles answered, confused about her sudden interest in forestry.

Buffy continued. "We have to go get more blood when he wakes up and it's dark enough." She shrugged. "I'm sorry I was such a spaz. I really want to be home. I really want to be normal girl, no assassins after me. How's that coming, the 'no assassin' part?"

"I put in a few phone calls to old family friends who have ties to the Council, people I think can be trusted. Now it's a matter of convincing them to hear us out, and gauging their reactions when we bring up Travers and certain actions and attitudes of his."

"So I'm stuck up here?"

He hedged. "It's a lovely place! Fresh air, the inlet, the woods..."

"Four channels, nothing to read, a vampire roomie..."

"A charming, quaint town..."

"No mall, Norman Rockwell's head..."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing." She sighed, but conceded, "It sucks, but it's better than being dead."

"I'm glad you feel that way. Your mother is here, fixing some tea. She's just coming."

"Talk to me again when she's done?"

"Of course. As for the list-"

"Totally helpful." Buffy mentally ran through the list of items. "Gotta add hating country music to that..."

"What was that?"

"Oh... Nothing. We don't need to read the list to you, right? We got the point."

"Unnecessary, especially since your mother's eagerly waiting to speak to you. Although I must say, I'm glad it wasn't entirely pointless."

_Some of the same stories. Some of the same abilities. Some of the same kinds of loves. Same desperation._ "No." She said quietly, reflectively. "Totally helped."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: For those of you eagerly awaiting smut- you're gonna have to keep eagerly awaiting. There's no way Spike and Buffy see each other as sexual partners yet, they're just starting to see each other as something other than enemies. Bear with me, we'll get there._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of show's dialogue will be used._

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Spike is the BIG BAD, Alexiarrose, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Sirius120, ShyL, Alottalove, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, micmoc, ammuna, rororogers, jackiemack916,Touch the Dark, ValidescopeWest, Mike13z50, Rachel, Cavementftw, hbmckidd, and Blade Redwind._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part VII**

_Day Five..._

"She's alive." Travers' voice was cool and detached. "There will be a search team arriving to pick up her trail. Perhaps she suspected - or perhaps she's left with her demon lover. I heard he also disappeared that night."

"I- uh- well I-" Wesley dropped his glasses and clicked the recorder on loudly and covered it with a cough. "We certainly pray so, Sir. That is- ah- that would explain the lack of another Slayer appearing."

"We have contacted our most venerable magic user, Mr. Willets, and he will perform the trace on her from the last point of contact. We do so dislike to use - What was that noise?"

"What noise?" Wesley asked, a little too quickly.

"I heard a whirring sound."

"Well, it's quite early here, Sir. Perhaps you hear my electric kettle beginning to-"

"Yes, well, Mr. Willets and his team will arrive tomorrow. They'll convey any information, and I trust you'll give them every cooperation." Travers spoke in a very hale and hearty voice, overly loud and cheerful, before lapsing into an obscure branch of old Urdu that he believed Wesley, one of their most skilled linguists, was familiar with. "I think this line may not be entirely safe. Has Rupert Giles been in your flat?"

"Recently? Hm, I-"

"Don't speak in English, man!" Travers barked, still in Urdu .

"The memorial service for students is this evening, Sir, Mr. Giles was here to give me the information. And to enlist my help in planning a small, private service for the Summers' family."

"Crafty devil. He didn't need to do those things! Why would you care to attend a memorial for high school students you barely knew?"

Wesley grit his teeth together and said nothing. He was angry for his superior's callousness, and even angrier that he might have been speaking the truth, had Buffy not been the girl she was, the girl who pulled you into her life and her world. Made you care less about protocol and more about people. "He tapped my line? Why would he do that?"

"Don't put anything past him. I never should have taken him back into the Council, not after that crowd he mixed with during university. I won't contact you on this line again. Willets knows nothing of our true reasons for finding the Slayer, so say nothing to him. Say nothing to anyone." Travers slammed the receiver down, leaving Wesley holding his own phone, shaking.

His fingers slipped across the keys, and he cradled the now silent cassette player in the crook of his arm, glasses held up in front of suddenly sweat blurred eyes.

"The hell with it."Wesley dropped everything unceremoniously on his counter, didn't bother to shower or shave, or even find a tie and coat. He threw on trousers and left his flat still buttoning his shirt.

* * *

Giles found a man he barely recognized pounding on his door at half seven, speaking ridiculously fast and whispering urgently.

"Great heavens, man, what's happened?" Giles pulled him inside.

"He knows! He knows she's alive, they're sending Willets to trace her being! Of course they'd use magic, why didn't you think of magic?"

He reacted instinctively, replied automatically,"Because Spike was the first attacker I knew of and he rarely used magic!" Giles was already racing to the phone, then to his bookshelf, then back to the phone.

"What are you doing? They'll be here by morning if he sends them now! Stop searching in your books! Hadn't you better call Buffy?"

"Thank God he told you." Giles was skimming with one hand, and taking out a second book with the other, phone already under his chin. "What happened?"

Wesley began to pour out the conversation in a torrential babble, only to be shushed after a few seconds.

"Willow?" Giles spoke into the phone.

"Giles. Hey." Willow's voice went from puzzled and lazy to alert and freaked in the space of a second. "What's wrong?"

"They know. Well, they suspect. Now," he patted at the empty air with a placating gesture as he heard Willow's breathing turn breathless in pre-sobs, "calm down, they don't know everything, Buffy's safe. For now. I need you to come over as soon as- Willow?" Giles stared at the phone in his hand. A dial tone droned in his ear. "Ah. I believe Willow's on her way over."

"What good is she going to do?" Wesley queried.

"Willow has powers most witches don't have until years and years of practice. She's naturally alert, curious, has an eager mind, a veritable genius in anything she undertakes..." Giles was rifling through books, back to Wesley. "She captured Angel's soul from the ether and managed to cast it back into him... she has untapped power."

"What good does that do us?"

Giles found what he was looking for, and his shoulders sagged in relief. He held out a book, the woodcut illustration showing a man shrouded in mist, the legend above proclaiming, "Obscurati". "Her power- our knowledge-" he passed Wesley the book, "she'll cloak Buffy's presence, even from someone as gifted as Willets."

"He'll still know _something_, Giles, he'll know she's alive. You can't mask a living being with the aura of someone passed over, not without dark magic, blood sacrifices..."

Giles blinked, mind whirring. Off her trail was good, believing there was no trail at all, that would be far superior. Finally he whispered, in a voice he didn't even know as his own, "Faith."

"Giles... no." Wesley put the book down firmly.

Giles nodded, then shook his head, pacing. "She's vegetative! She's only half alive!"

"She may heal!" Wesley rose. _Not you too. I'd believed you were a cowboy, unsuitable- but good. Don't show me we're all doomed to failure..._

The older man sat down heavily. "You're right. You're right. I cannot turn into a monster. More than I have. Not again."

Wesley's chest loosened. "You're not a monster. You're simply not yourself."

Giles nodded, unspeaking. "Perhaps when we're desperate- we're more ourselves than ever. Ha. Sad. At heart, I do deals with devils, I steal cars, I fake deaths, I endanger youngsters, I consider ending the life of someone I once I tried to help..."

"You protect an innocent woman, the world's champion, and spare as many people as much pain as you can." Wesley moved into the kitchen, began searching out tea things. "You have dark thoughts, just like all of us."

"Is that so?" Giles looked over the edges of his glasses at the rumpled younger man. "Dark thoughts? Surely not in the Wyndham-Pryce family."

"Oh, especially in the Wyndham-Pryce family. The times I've thought of bludgeoning my father with a croquet mallet..." He put the kettle on and then confessed, "I thought of pulling her life support system. But she's under one of Travers' guard, disguised as a nurse." He shook his head, and then said, "Even so- I don't believe I could've done it. She was my responsibility. I would give-" he became brisk, realizing he was perilously close to becoming maudlin and emotional. Heavens, he really must keep the three piece armor on. "Well, you know, whatever you'd give to have Buffy back safely. If it were an option."

"You're not such a little toe rag after all." Giles admitted with a half smile, head bent over the spell book.

"And you're becoming horribly Americanized."

"Quiet. There are some insults an Englishman cannot overlook." He studied the spell and then looked up. "They'll know she's alive. But they'll have no idea where. That's a good place to begin. Now, you get the tapes ready, I'll get the spell ingredients, I'll explain everything to Willow, and you must avoid me until the memorial service."

"Yes, yes, but-" Wesley put down the steaming cup of tea as he insisted, "shouldn't you _call_ _Buffy_?"

* * *

"I suddenly love this town!" Spike crowed, head back, arms outstretched.

"I don't!" Buffy shivered and huddled under the dense pines. Rain poured down, gray clouds hid the sun, and she and Spike, out of utter boredom and static on the television, were out in the middle of a clearing.

"C'mon, what's a little rain to you?" Spike bounced easily into a boxer's shuffle, sniffing in, fists at his chest.

"Wet, yucky, and cold." Buffy replied.

"Some Slayer..." Spike hopped a few feet in towards her, then back. "Afraid of a little water?"

"I said I'd spar, not drown outside in the middle of the woods." Buffy's wet hair was plastered to her, as well as her clothes. Spike seemed not to notice any inconvenience from the rainstorm at all. "You're already undead and have no temperature. In short- you cheat."

"You'll always be stronger than me- an' I'm not even eatin' human blood. Weak an' malnourished. By your logic- we both 'cheat'."

"Ergghhh." Buffy hauled herself into the middle of the clearing. "Don't hit hard." She warned warily.

"Double for you." Spike stepped back from her. Then kicked out, did a full flying kick, although he made sure not to use all his force.

Buffy, who hadn't expected it, reeled back, and then reacted, punching him, one two, in the jaw, in the nose.

"OW! Bloody fuck!" Spike clutched his septum.

"How the hell do you train!?" Buffy squawked, holding her surely bruised hip.

"I don't have to! Neither do you, don't have to train the Slayer in you." He spat blood and shook his head. "It's instinct. I thought we'd just have a nice friendly brawl."

Buffy looked at him like he was certifiable. "A nice friendly brawl? Are you insane?"

"Nope, dead sane. Why force yourself into nice little routines when you're a machine inside, runnin' on automatic settings?"

"Because I'm human! I live with humans! I care about accidentally hurting them, I have to control my reflexes and my strength!"

Spike thought on that for a moment. "S'pose you do."

"Duh." Buffy rolled her eyes in exasperation. In two seconds, she was lying flat on her back, legs knocked from under her, a grinning Spike standing above her. "What the hell, Spike? Seriously."

"You're not with a human now... don't have to control yourself- much." He watched her struggle to get her elbows back and push herself up. Wet, covered in leaves and streaks of mud now. Fire flashing, green fire in her eyes, pretty smile suddenly back- but not sweet. Pretty and hard. _Diamonds and emeralds. _The poet in him found time to rear his nancy head before he shut him up. "Here." He stuck out his hand.

She took it, bounced to her feet, and threw her coat on a fallen tree behind her. "Bring it on."

Under the cover of the rain pounding and the wind howling, in the midst of the ensuing shouting, grunting, cursing, and eventual laughing- neither one heard the phone ringing inside Buffy's coat pocket.

* * *

"You broke my ankle." Spike groaned and limped.

"Good. Let's call it payback for you breaking my everything else." Buffy staggered behind him. "You said no injuring."

"I also said you didn't have to hold back. Let's not do that again."

"Yeah. Sure. Okay." Buffy agreed quickly, trying to hide her disappointment. That sparring match had been the only remotely enjoyable part of the last week.

"Next time we call three contacts per round, and work on ducking and weaving. Save on the face." Spike cupped his chin as they entered the kitchen. "Sometimes I miss having a reflection." He muttered, staring in the glass of the door and seeing nothing as his fingers "inspected" his face.

"You look fine. I- on the other hand," Buffy peered around him and stifled a screech, "I look like Swamp Thing! No, worse, Bride of Swamp Thing. I'm going to go get a shower." She tossed her coat over the back of the chair, and it thumped. "Oh shoot! I had my phone in there, all that time in the rain!" She hurriedly pulled it out and shook it.

"It's under enchantment. It's fine." Spike said easily, taking his coat and boots off, and beginning to untuck his shirt as well. "Right, aren't I? Dry as a bone. More than can be said for me."

"Seven missed calls! How long were we outside?"

* * *

"It's been two hours. I- I'm calling the local police." Giles was pacing yet again.

"Okay!" Willow was all for that.

"No!" Wesley restrained him. "It's early. Maybe she's sleeping in, maybe her-" Wesley darted an eye towards to Willow and curbed his tongue, "bodyguard, kept watch all night, and is resting during the day."

"If she doesn't call back in five minutes, I'll go up there myself." Giles cried.

"Okay!" Willow was all for that as well. "Can I come?"

But, fortuitously, the concealed phone rang. Giles dove for it.

"Buffy!"

"I was outside! I'm okay, I'm so sorry, really, really, _really_ sorry."

"Outside? Alone? What did we discuss yesterday?"

"It's cloudy." Buffy gave a seemingly obtuse answer.

Giles' brain puzzled that out until it made sense."Ah. You're both well?"

"Wet and muddy, but fine."

"What have you been doing?" Giles leapt to the possibility that they'd finally snapped and beaten each other up. He found a flash of gratitude that they'd done it outside the house, rather like a father feeling grateful when his children decide to play tag out of doors instead of amidst all the expensive furniture.

"Training."

"Training? With-" He stopped and Willow looked at him suspiciously. "How marvelous."

"Didn't suck. But I don't think you wanted to discuss my morning. What's up? Seven missed calls? Were you just wigged because we didn't answer?"

"Yes, we were 'wigged' due to that fact, but also because," he cleared his throat, thinking there was really no good way to say this, "Travers has come to the conclusion you aren't dead. He's sending the most experienced and well versed magic user on the Council to come and use magic to locate your presence."

"What? Magic! Why am I riding around in a stolen Buick, hiding in the most woodsy place I've ever been in my life, and carrying a fake ID that says my name is Becky Johnson if this dude is going to use _MAGIC_!"

"I didn't consider Travers would involve too many members of the Council for one thing, this was supposed to be very cloak and dagger and secretive! It would have been, after all, had you not disappeared. For the other matter, I knew he'd planned on asking Sp- specifically for someone who rarely used magic but was more of a hands-on ruthless killer. I also figured he'd send thugs and demons after you, I worried about covering your trail, and I think I've done a damn good job!"

Buffy stammered out hushing sounds, "Giles, Giles, I'm not blaming you or stuff, I'm just screwed and I'm freaking."

Spike, standing in the kitchen, now in nothing but his soaked black jeans, moved closer to her, able to hear both sides of the conversation, but now paying extra attention. "What's all this?"

"Shh." Buffy waved him to silence as Giles' calmer voice replied.

"You're not 'screwed'- thanks to Willow. We're doing an Obscurati incantation. It will skew any readings on your location, but it _will_ indicate you're still alive. Then they'll begin searching, then they'll begin looking for clues, picking up your trail. Travers also thinks his line was tapped, and it seems he's cutting Wesley out of his plans."

"Man." Buffy shivered suddenly.

"Time to start earnin' my keep, yeah, Slayer?" Spike's voice was a half-amused brush against her lobe.

"Looks like." She managed a brave smile as she saw him, suddenly right beside her. _Benefit of Spike- can't act like a chicken in front of him. War face._ "So what do we do?"

"Be watchful, be extra alert. If we get any indications they're heading towards you, we'll advise."

"Okay." Buffy chewed her lip. "Really hating this. But totally seeing why you're the man- you covered everything for me."

"No, but I did my best." Giles sighed. "Would you like to speak to Will- oh!"

Willow tore the phone from his fingers. "I miss you so much! Are you okay? I'm going to cast the best obscure-making spell you ever saw!"

Buffy laughed, Spike paced and made "wrap it up" motions with his hands, which she ignored. "I'm fine. Soaked and muddy, I was walking in the woods. But no bad guys yet,"_ at least none that aren't supposed to be here,_ "and no bad guys ever, because your obscurific spell is going to make me super hidden."

"I hope so." Willow rubbed her anxious stomach. "It's just me using my witch-y goodness, Wesley and Giles are doing the hard part."

"You're all working hard." Buffy smiled, feeling grateful to have such amazing people in her life- and hoping she'd get back there soon. "You haven't told Oz yet, huh?"

"No... he knows something's wrong, he thinks it's missing you. I hope he forgives me for not telling him when you come back."

"He'll have to forgive me, I'm the one asking you not to tell him. The fewer people who know, the fewer they can come after. I wish you didn't have to know..."

"If I thought you were really dead- I'd probably be dead too." Willow whispered.

"Wills..." Buffy's eyes pooled.

"Oh bloody hell." Spike stormed off, shaking off the estrogen flash flood he'd just witnessed.

"I have to help Giles with this spell." Willow swallowed.

"Okay, I'll call you tonight?"

"We'll call after the service."

Buffy felt the room spin. _How weird is that?_ "My service?" She asked in a high, cracked voice. Halfway up the stairs, Spike paused.

"No... yours is tomorrow." Willow's voice went wobbly and she coughed. "Today is the school's. A group thing."

"The- oh my God... I'm not even thinking about... how many?" Buffy whispered.

"Sixteen, if you listen to the news."

"What?" Buffy gasped.

"I mean it's fourteen for real. They counted the mayor, and you. But you're still alive. When you come back, you just say you got hit on the head when the building started falling down, got dazed, wandered off, hitchhiked some place and eventually your memory came back. No one looked for you because they thought you were- um, yeah."

"Yeah." She swallowed. "Anyone we knew?"

"We knew everyone." Willow felt Giles' hand pat her shoulder awkwardly.

"Who?" Buffy sat down on the kitchen chair, unaware of the muddy water slowly creating puddled wherever she moved. She was also unaware of Spike coming back into the kitchen, leaning in the doorway and watching her.

"Um. Larry. Ryan- from the robotics club? Missy."

"Right, from the science fair."

"Harmony. I don't- didn't- really like her, but- I didn't want her to die."

"I know, Will. I didn't like her either, I didn't really know any of them that well, but I wanted them to to be alive, to have big, long happy lives! Oh God! I can't believe this!" Buffy crashed her head to the table.

"Buffy, you couldn't be everywhere at once."

"I didn't have to ask them to help us wage war!"

"If you didn't they'd have still come to graduation, and had no chance to fight back. They'd still have been snake food. Them and a lot more."

"I know." Buffy sighed, head collapsed against the phone. "Still sucks. Sooo much suckage."

"Willow- the spell." Giles' soft voice tentatively prodded. "We have to perfect it, and we haven't got much time to practice."

"Buffy, we'll call you back tonight, but it'll be late. Be safe."

"I will. Love you. Hug Xander for me."

"I will. Love you too." Willow shut her phone.

Buffy remained still, staring ahead, glassy eyed.

"You're makin' great dirty puddles all over the man's pretty linoleum." Spike's voice jarred the silence.

"What's mud after a whole quart of blood?" Buffy asked dully.

"Good point. You're cleaning it up."

"Fine."

Spike frowned. "That's worrisome." He walked around the table and crouched down, peering at the vacant warrior in front of him. "You can't check out. This is when things are finally heating up! Stealth mode, fighting stances, locked and bloody well loaded."

"Yeah. In a minute."

"What the hell happened to you? You were fine when the old man was tellin' you the bad news!"

"Fourteen kids in my senior class died. I knew them. They died fighting a demon I should have stopped on my own."

"We go over that and over that. Chosen Ones die. Chosen Ones with little morsels on the side-"

"Hey!" Buffy jerked her head up.

"-live longer. More would've died if you'd let him win." Spike was happy to be snapped at, meant the fight was still in her.

"I should be at that service." Buffy slammed her palm on the table, and used the other to support her head.

"Hello! The Big Bossman is about to set the bloodhounds on you, and you're worried about missing some memorial?"

"You don't understand. You've never let anyone down and not even been able to show some gesture that you're sorry for it!" Buffy glared.

Shows what she knows, Spike thought, but kept silent, beginning to stew inside.

"_It's all right, Mother. It's only me. We'll be together forever."_

_ "William?"_

_ "It only hurts for a moment."_

* * *

"They called me the class protector, Spike! I have an _award_. For _protecting_ my class. So yay me, I protected as many as I could, I tried my best! Don't you think I still want to say sorry for the ones I wasn't able to save?" She ranted, and he kept still, a block of marble. She grew defensive, bitter, mad at her for not being able to change the situation, mad at him for seemingly not acknowledging it. "No. Probably not. You never saved anyone in your life, did you? You never apologize for something if you didn't make it work."

* * *

"_God, I prayed you'd find a woman to release me, but you scarcely showed an interest. Who could compare to your doddering housebound mum? A captive audience for your witless prattle."_

_ "Whatever I was, that's not who I am anymore."_

_ "Darling, it's who you'll always be. A limp... sentimental fool. You want to run, don't you? Scamper off and cry to your new little trollop. Do you think you'll be able to love her? Think you'll be able to touch her without feeling me? All you ever wanted was to be back inside. You finally got your wish, didn't you? Sank your teeth into me. An eternal kiss."_

_ "No. I only wanted to make you well."_

_ "You wanted your hands on me. Perhaps you'd like a chance to finish off what you started."_

_ "I love you. I did. Not like this." _

_ "Just like this. This is what you always wanted. Who's my dark little prince?"_

_ "No!"_

_ "Get out. Get out!"_

_ Fight. Vamping- how he'd thought that face was so beautiful on Drusilla, so hideous on her. He knew, belatedly. She was never meant to be a demon. His mother had always been his guardian angel. The broken cane felt heavy in his hand._

_ "There, there, precious. It will only hurt for a moment."_

_ He held onto her, for just a second. "I'm sorry."_

_ Everything was dust at his feet._

* * *

Buffy yelped as ice white features were suddenly slammed millimeters from her face, steel fingers were on her arms, dragging her up out of her chair, through the kitchen. She was too startled to even cry out. He had been still, and then he was a pale, half naked tornado, throwing her around the room with him.

"You get up those stairs, you get your damn shower, and you get the hell out of my sight. I'm not here to protect someone who's too busy weepin' over the lives she _didn't _save instead of bein' grateful all the ones she did. Sometimes you do your goddamn best, but still you can't save them all." _Dru's alive. Mum's not. You learn..._ "You learn to deal with what you salvage, an' you don't quit." _Still tryin' to save Dru._ "You think the ones who named you 'protector' want you to cave in and let yourself get caught? Who you gonna protect then?"

"Back! Off!" They were in the upstairs hall by this time, her arm aching under his brisk, iron-gripped dragging. She slammed his elbow outwards, breaking his grasp. "I'm not falling apart! I'm just sad! It's a human emotion! You don't get it, so shut the hell up and leave me alone!"

"I get it more than you know, and I don't waste time moping around when it gets on top of me!"

"No, you turn into a slurring drunk and kidnap my best friends and sob about true love!"

"You wouldn't know what _that_ is, would you? Your 'true love' left you!"

"So did yours! Twice!" She spat.

He winced back suddenly, lips in a half snarl of surprised pain. So many more times than "twice", but she didn't need to know that.

They stared, angry, panting, furious at each other for so much more than the surface irritations and what events they were dealing with. "Yeah, guess so." His smile returned, cold and nasty. "Maybe we're more the same than you'd like to think, Slayer."

She turned from him, marching into the bathroom. "Add it to the list."

He stared at the slammed door, shoulders heaving, head pulsing. "What a long list this is gonna turn out to be..."

* * *

Buffy kept herself in her room, and Spike, due to the daylight hours, stayed in his room to sleep. She brooded over the things Willow'd said, the things Spike shouted. She finally thought things might work out okay, and now everything was a big plate of crap with extra crappy sauce on the side. "Okay, well, it'll get worse. But at least _today_ is probably done being shot to hell." She threw on clean clothes after several hours of huddling in her wet towel, and began to look- as un-nosily as possible- through her host's bedroom.

_Spike was right. He does some non-work books._ _Wuthering Heights, Catch-22, The Odyssey, Homer, Milton, Selected Works of Shakespeare, The Count of Monte Cristo, The New Yorker Book of Art Cartoons. _

_Wow. I bet his idea of a wild weekend was drinking tea out of a mug and eating the Bovril right out of the jar without using napkins._ Pictures around the room showed archeological digs, him standing with people in front of museums, pictures of him receiving awards, smiling in khakis and dirty tan shirts, lifting up some priceless old piece of clay or wood.

_I need to go to Disney World with Giles when we get back. Or at least the mall. They have a photo booth. We need more than magic books and weapons in our lives. _She took the _New Yorker book of Art Cartoons,_ thinking it was the least boring and wordy choice. She spread it open on her knees, but stared straight ahead.

* * *

Spike stared at the ceiling, sleep evading him. He ran scenarios, he plotted he planned. He divided the wakefulness between figuring out how to keep her safe, and the other half on how to kill her and still get Menfra's Eye.

_Well, we can't be deeper undercover than we are here. Car they can't match to her, plate they can't match to the car, house they can't tie to her- but they can tie to him, if they do some digging... Jungles of Borneo are starting to look pretty good. Though- _Spike suddenly sat up.

_Noises. Downstairs. Outside? Inside? _

He forgot the desire to snap her like a twig. His job was to deliver her safely, and suddenly that was all he cared about.

Buffy heard a floorboard creak outside her door and jarred herself out of her non-reading. Hands immediately curled to fists, one around a stake, and she was out the door, watching Spike treading barefoot down the stairs.

"Spike!" She hissed.

"Shh, get back inside, and stay there." Spike whirled and hissed back. "Noises outside."

"What kind of noises?" Buffy hovered in the door, torn between following him, and letting him do his job.

"I don't know yet!" He glowered with enough force to make her retreat a step. "Look, if I need back up, I'll call you."

"It can't be one of Traver's goons, they don't know I'm here yet."

"Never say never." Spike continued to prowl down the stairs, voice now a growling whisper, "I don't know who it is. For all I know, it could be the big brother of the deer I ate lookin' to settle the score."

"Well...be careful!"

"Shut the damn door." He ordered in grunt, and reached out with his senses.

_Two heartbeats. Humans. Walking past the door- pausing- walking back and- _

Both he and Buffy jumped as three taps sounded on the front door.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God." Buffy muttered.

"Ooh. Dinner after all." Spike murmured eagerly, and peeked out the transom at the top of the door. Then frowned. A well dressed man and woman carrying a cloth covered dish and a bottle of wine were on the doorstep. "Dinner in one way or another..."

He backed away from the door. Maybe they'd leave. Maybe they hadn't realized the man wasn't home...

"Hello? Giles?" A loud voice called.

Upstairs, Buffy's head popped back through the door, eyes wide.

"What the hell is going on?" Spike muttered.

"Giles? We're the Larkins, Geoff's neighbors! Geoff mentioned you would be staying."

Spike put his finger to his lips, and motioned Buffy to duck back into her room.

He heard mutterings on the porch, husband and wife now speaking to each other. "He's not home."

"He must be, his car is in the garage."

"He might be walking in the woods, or down at the inlet."

"In this rain?"

"He _is_ English. Those types like the rain. You know Geoff said he was coming to get out of the California climate. Just put it on the doorstep and leave it, Honey."

"I can't! These are Mimi's popovers and they'll get soggy. Use your key, Paul."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Spike cried and ran in place, mimicking footsteps, "Coming!" He yelled, leaning back, making his voice seem farther away.

Buffy's head appeared yet again. "What the hell are you doing!?" She demanded in exasperation.

"Darling! We have company!" Spike shouted, a forced smile on his face.

* * *

"No, we don't!" Buffy tore down the stairs on noiseless feet. "We so do not!"

"He has a key! He thinks I'm Giles!" Spike protested, holding her back from the door.

"You look nothing like Giles!" Buffy protested.

"They don't know that, but I heard them say they have a key- and pop overs and fairly decent looking bottle of red, so play along for five minutes, then say you- I dunno, you've got to phone your dyin' granny or somethin' and we'll get rid of them."

"Spike, no. No, no, no, no -Oh, hi." Buffy transformed her face into a welcoming, if slightly insane looking, smile as Spike flung the door open.

The Larkins stepped back and surveyed the couple before them. "Uh- hi. We're the Larkins from up the street. You must be Giles and-"

"Becky." Buffy quickly remembered to use her fake name. "I'm Becky."

"Becky and Giles. Welcome to the neighborhood! We drive by Geoff's place a few times a week and make sure everything is okay, and yesterday we saw the lights were on at night-" the chatty wife missed the glares Spike and Buffy shot each other, "and decided to pop in and say hi."

"How very kind of you." Spike extended his hand and smiled in an almost courtly manner. Buffy did a double take.

_Who the hell is that? That is _not _Spike!_

"Won't you come in?"

_The voice isn't even the same. Softer, more precise, not snarling. Semi-Gilesy. _

"We won't stay long, Geoff said you were one of his busy curator pals, up here for some peace and quiet."

"And a taste of the rainy weather!" The husband added with a chuckle, and Spike chuckled back politely.

"Oh yes, I do quite miss it. It's the lack of fog that makes me so dreadfully homesick, however. But Becky," Spike turned to Buffy with a fixed smile, "just loves the sun."

"Yeah. I mean, what can I say, I'm from Florida." Buffy tossed on the last detail deliberately, not wanting to mention her true origins.

"You are? Well, that's a stitch, Beth grew up in Fort Lauderdale."

"Really?" The smile turned sickly. _Why? Why do I try to be clever? _

"Oh, just until I was ten."

Spike and Buffy nodded. Spike managed to drop a discreet glance at the cloth covered item in Beth's hands.

"We bought you some popovers for your breakfast tomorrow, and some wine for your dinner tonight."

"How thoughtful."

"So, so thoughtful." Buffy parroted, taking the dish as Spike took the bottle.

"No trouble. We promised we wouldn't make a nuisance of ourselves, but we just love Geoff and couldn't let the week go by without making some sort of gesture. Even though we know about you Brits, so stand offish." Beth tittered playfully.

"Really? You don't think I'm stand offish, do you Luv?" Spike steeled himself and made as if to put an arm around Buffy's shoulders.

Buffy ducked and laughed nervously, "Of course not, Giles is the- the least stand offish person I know. He just- loves people. So much." _They're his favorite food, after all._

There was an awkward silence, all four people standing in the hall.

"Well... nice to meet you. Giles. _Giles._ What an unusual name."

"It's actually a surname." Spike began, then realized that as a surname it was directly linked to Buffy by way of her Watcher, so slowly added, "On my grandmother's side, but my parents wanted it in use, so..."

"We understand, Mr..."

"Mr.-" _Bloody hell, Mr. What? Do I have a fake name on this gig? Didn't figure I'd be havin' company, not the type you don't kill, that is. _

"Oh how rude of us. Becky and Giles Johnson." Buffy rapidly interjected.

"Paul and Beth. Larkin." Everyone laughed stiffly.

"A pleasure. Oh, darling, didn't you have to call your dear granny in Florida? It's getting late."

"It's barely seven in Florida." Paul said in a puzzled tone.

"Yes, but she gets up every day at four. You know old people. Excuse us." Buffy gave another unconvincing laugh.

"Sure. Certainly."

"Thank you so much."

"Not at all."

"Goodnight!"

"Goodnight."

Spike inclined his head politely, and shut the door, silently slipping the deadbolt closed.

Buffy sat down on the bottom step, hard, and began pulling apart a popover out of sheer stressed out energy. "Holy crap."

"Nice cover. Johnson?"

"The fake ID. Becky Johnson."

"Giles and Becky Johnson. I don't like it."

"Me either."

"How about Rebecca and Johnson Giles?"

"Can't use Giles as a last name."

"Rebecca and William Johnson?"

"Spike! Stop fooling around with names, we can't change them anyway. Not around here." _When we run- and we probably will have to- then we can change._

"Right." He sat down next to her, unthinkingly. "Hmm. 1989, nice vintage." He examined the bottle. "Want some?"

"I don't drink." She shook her head.

"More for me." Spike began pulling up the seal.

"You were awesome. What happened to your accent?"

"What about it?"

"It went away... it went- nice."

"My posh voice?" He smiled at the floor. "I can put it on when I need to. You were less awesome, Slayer. You hid this whole life from your mum for years, and now you can't say your name and make a simple excuse without looking guilty as hell."

"I was caught off guard!"

"That's what being on the run means, Pet, you're always on guard."

"Hm." Buffy nodded, realizing that was true. "Guess that's why I have you. You're used to lying, cheating, making up stories, staying low..."

"Abso-bloody-lutely." He vamped and stuck a fang in the cork. " 'Ere. Ull."

"Pull?" She gingerly put her hands around the bottle.

Spike jerked his head back, and the cork went with it. "There. Let that breathe a bit." He rolled the bottle lazily between his palms.

"Wow. There's a corkscrew on the counter you know." Buffy blinked as the cork rolled across the floor.

"Real vamps use fangs." He grinned. She grinned back. It surprised them both. "Y'know... we oughta work on the cover story a bit, I suppose. Layin' low is great, but we _are_ still in a town, and for God knows how long."

"I guess." Buffy rose, and he trailed her into the kitchen. "They'll want their popover plate back, so we'll have to see them again."

"Damn."

"I know."

"Alright. Becky and Giles Johnson, late of Florida and London, with one strangely early rising granny."

"You're a curator."

"Who loves people." He quirked his eyebrow at her.

"You sure do. Beverage of choice, right?"

He gaped. "Did you just take the stick out of your ass an' make a joke?"

"First- don't be rude. Second, yes."

"Well, well." Spike sank into a kitchen chair and watched a smile flit across her face as she moved.

"Well nothing, Buster. Oh- and don't try to put your arm around me. You like people, but I'm the old ball and chain."

"Pft." He snorted through his nose and laughed aloud. "Sorry, you're not old enough to be my old anything. We're practically newlyweds."

"We are not!"

"Are. Look at you- you're a hot little blonde, the old curator'd be havin' you spread across the display cases night and day."

"You don't look old. And you have killer abs."

Words took a minute to filter through. "You think I'm hot?"

"I have killer abs?"

"I meant in general. I like brunettes." Spike hurriedly clarified.

"Same." Buffy flushed crimson. "Right. Um. We were saying?"

* * *

"I'm not sayin' that."

"It's my wedding." Buffy insisted stubbornly, arms crossed.

"It's OUR wedding, and I refuse to say we had a sunset wedding in Hawaii. Doesn't fit the curator picture."

"Curators can't have fun?"

"Look at this bloke. Look at your Watcher." Spike crossed his own arms and they faced off across the couch.

"Good point. So- where'd we get married?"

"In a nice little chapel. St. Somethin'-or-others. Moon rise in spring. Long, white dress... Hair down, night blooming jasmine in a wreath. Maybe braided in..."

Buffy looked at him worriedly. "Beginning to creep me out."

He gave her a sour look, he would have been blushing with embarrassment for revealing something so personal in front of her, if his pigmentation would have allowed it. "Sorry. When you envision it the same way for so long, it's easy to insert it into any wedding scenario."

Buffy let her face close over. "Oh." _Wow. He thinks about weddings? To Drusilla of course, which makes it creepy- but still, pretty romantic._

"Oh." He agreed pointedly. "We'll say it was Hawaii, if they ask, but let's try to keep them from asking, alright?" Spike got up abruptly, began to head up to his room, just to be away from her. He hated walking this bloody tightrope, day after day with her, try to be enemies, try to have a truce, try to keep up a cover, try not to-

"I said sunset because I always thought the light would be low enough." Buffy spoke into her crossed arms, looking at her knees as they were pulled to her chest. "He said he'd never been anywhere tropical. Never got to go to the beach except searching for evidence and bad guys at night. I thought- I thought we'd be away from everything. Just for a night."

Spike moved slowly back to the couch, but he kept his back to her, sitting on the arm she wasn't leaning on. "She would have been a nun. I thought she'd like the formal do. She liked churches. She used to go to confession sometimes. Sometimes she'd eat the priest, but she always got absolved first."

"Wow. That's- that's insane Spike."

"Init? But it made her happy." _I always made her happy. Sometimes the madness won out though, that's all. If I can just tame the mind, and still make her heart happy, we'll be golden._

"You'd do anything to make her happy, wouldn't you?" Buffy asked quietly.

"What can I say? I loved the girl." He gave her a sideways glance, each catching the other looking. "But- we're both wasting our time. Demons don't get married. And holy sacraments don't work on us anyway."

"Yeah, but the fact that you offered- did you offer?"

"More times than you've years." He gave a melancholy grin, for himself, not for her.

She returned it, at least the melancholy part, minus the grin. "Well, it's nice you have _someone's _back." Buffy sighed.

Spike didn't acknowledge the backhanded, extremely reaching compliment. "Gonna go for a walk. Goin' stir crazy."

"I hear that. I'm going to go up to bed, wait for Willow to call me back."

"See ya."

"Night."

She barely felt his fingers touch between her shoulder blades as he left the room, but she knew what it meant.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	8. Chapter 8

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: For those of you eagerly awaiting smut- you're gonna have to keep eagerly awaiting. There's no way Spike and Buffy see each other as sexual partners yet, they're just starting to see each other as something other than enemies. Bear with me, we'll get there._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of the show's dialogue will be used._

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Spike is the BIG BAD, Alexiarrose, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Sirius120, ShyL, Alottalove, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, micmoc, seapea, rororogers, jackiemack916,Touch the Dark, ValidescopeWest, Mike13z50, Rachel, Cavementftw, Draconi9, and Blade Redwind._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part VIII**

_Day Six..._

"All these people are here for Buffy?" Joyce hissed. They completely filled the backyard. It was supposed to be a private event, a few friends from school, herself, Hank- if he'd been reachable. "I only have folding chairs for ten."

"They'll stand." Giles said simply.

"Here's the picture." Cordelia came up breathlessly, swaying through the crowd, a poster sized print of Buffy in her homecoming dress in her arms.

"I have a picture." Joyce said politely.

"I know- but I got this one touched up and airbrushed. It really smoothed her complexion and tamed that 'I slay' hairstyle. You don't have to thank me. It's the least I could do. So- here." Cordelia shoved the picture into Giles' hands and scurried out of the way.

"Man... suddenly starting to like her again." Xander muttered and watched her go.

"Don't start." Willow, looking like a colorized victorian photo- white face, black jumper, and flaming hair at the top, weakly sat in the front (and only) row of chairs.

"You okay?" Xander hissed, joining her.

"Think I'm gonna hurl." Willow whispered. "I was up half the night practicing that spell, and doing power focusing chants. And I hate public speaking."

"It's a memorial service. You don't _have_ to talk. You didn't get asked to give a eulogy."

"Xander! I'm her best friend! If I-" Willow realized they were being surrounded by a crowd as guests began filling in the spaces in the lawn. "I have to. I'm her best friend."

"Hey... where can we set up?" Oz strode up, with as much bustle as you could imagine the stoic boy having. His bass cut a bumping, nudging swathe through the crowd, and Devon followed him, trailing foot after foot of extension cord.

"Oz!" Willow leapt up, and hugged him around the neck. "Oh... I don't know. I don't know if Buffy's mom is going to be up for the Dingoes today."

"It's cool. We're not playing for us. We're playing for Buffy."

* * *

"If they do a pyramid- I think it's highly inappropriate." Wesley muttered to Giles as SHS's cheer squad, at least what was left of them, came in, in uniform.

"Heavens, I'll deal with it- you try and arrange the rest of that throng in the back."

"Arrange them?" Wesley squawked in protest, "There's no order here, there's no sense of-"

"You were Head Boy. You arranged all the Christmas Choir concerts every year. Arrange them." Giles strode off and confronted the cheerleaders, headed by Cordelia, who was not in uniform. "Ladies-"

"I got this." She halted Giles as he came up, addressing her squad with a hand on her hip. "Yellow at a memorial service? Have you no chic?"

"We wanted to come in uniform so we could make it look cooler when we officially present this to Mrs. Summers." One girl held out a yellow sweater with the name _Summers_ printed on the back in the trademark maroon. "We made her an honorary member."

Giles stared, smiled bemusedly, and walked away. _They can do all the pyramids they want. although this is rather beginning to have a festival air, with the band setting up, and the cheerleaders here..._

Xander worked his way through the crowd, in a suit, an actual suit, and sank down next to Willow once again. "This is so cool." He whispered with shining eyes. "This is what she deserved. Will deserve. I mean-" he shook his head, and the brightness in the eyes twinkled a little harder. "We should tape this. Buffy's going to be so bummed she's missing it."

"We can't tape it. It would look ghoulish. Just try to remember everything, to tell her tonight." Willow, under the guise of needing a hug, managed to mumble into his shoulder. "Don't worry. She'll be back. And the next time- we won't be watching, okay? 'Cause we're all gonna go out on some crazy ride together."

"I wanna die when I'm old and wrinkly. Like, _ninety,_ Wills."

"You think we won't be _more _crazy at ninety?" She winked, and they managed to smile. "We'll bring her back."

* * *

"Rupert! Rupert, what in the world?" Joyce, clutching wads of linen in each fist, the necessity of perpetually breaking into tears during this last week, marched over to him. "Who are all these people?"

"Just a few of the people she saved." He murmured, adjusting his tie with one hand, finding it too big to rest on the lump in his throat.

"There are a hundred people in my yard!" Joyce gasped incredulously.

"Yes. Like I said," he didn't know if tears or proud smiles would come out. It was the smile. He was beaming, never more proud in all his life, "just a few."

* * *

"A few preliminaries, Whyndham-Pryce." Mr. Willets, flanked by two assistants, were waiting for Wesley when he returned from the memorial service.

Wesley composed himself with an effort. That had been the most moving tribute he'd ever witnessed, a service planned to maybe last an hour had gone on for three. Coming back into his flat, a world of right corners and books, rules and ledgers, never felt more hollow. He'd searched all his life for fulfillment in perfection, and now sensed the fullness he craved was in the messiness of humanity, with its strange customs and untrammeled emotions and affection. He struggled to quell his rebelliousness under the guise of his usual politeness and deference, all the while thinking, _I can't live life by these rules and manners. I want to live life by life itself._

But outwardly he gave his most formal and well-bred nod, replying, "Of course."

"We expected you back at ten. It's after noon." Willets' tone was faintly accusatory, for tardiness was most ungentlemanly.

"I was at Ms. Summers' memorial service."

"She isn't dead, however."

"Her mother doesn't know we suspect that, and not to be present would be disgracefully rude."

Willets thawed. "Yes, true."

"True, true." Willets assistants nodded and chorused.

Wesley fought down a sudden urge to giggle giddily. _What a pair of little yes-men. Oh dear..._ He lost the urge rapidly._ Just like me. Like I used to be._ "What preliminaries can I assist you with, Sir?"

"Take us to the exact location where she is thought to have perished."

"You'd like me to accompany you?" He asked with a faint note of surprise. Usually the Council involved as few people as possible in their workings, the better to remain discreet and unobtrusive.

"Naturally. I don't need your assistance, but I assumed you'd want to be present. You're her Watcher." Willets looked at him curiously. "You must be thrilled. Your Slayer is alive."

"I'm afraid to hope." Wesley said with completely honest anxiety, hands clasping nervously.

Willets thawed even more. "We'll find her. Have no fear. She'll be back with you soon."

"I pray you're right."

* * *

"We have to go. Right now." Giles returned to the Summers' home almost as soon as he'd left it, and discreetly hustled Willow and Xander along in front of him.

"Why am I coming? I mean, I want to, but I thought Wesley was-"

"I just saw him get into a car with three of the Council's agents. I'm glad I followed him."

"I can't do the spell without both of you!" Willow cried, pale skin going into the skim milk territory. "I'm just the source, you guys are the funnel! I'm the power plant but you guys were going to be the lines and the transformers and outlets and -"

"Willow! Your metaphors are approaching the speed of light." Xander reached into the back of the Citroen and put both hands on hers. "You can do this." He turned back to Giles. "_Me_ on the other hand..."

"I will teach you the words, and you will say them perfectly. We won't make any mistakes. We never do when there's this much at stake."

"But what about the time we-"

"Please- I'm allowed minor delusions once every few years, and I'm having mine now."

* * *

"_Now_ why are you acting all miserable?" Spike stood and stretched as Buffy dragged herself down the stairs, looking mopey and drained, despite the fact that she'd slept half of the day away.

"Why are you still up?" Buffy grumbled and continued past him into the kitchen.

"Because when you sleep, you can't defend yourself."

"So you 'keep watch'?" She asked bitterly and dubiously.

"You know all this already." He didn't like her tone.

"Where are the popover thingys?"

"Beats me." Spike watched her root through the fridge and bang open cupboards, ignoring the plate sitting on the middle of the table. _I'll give it another minute. Then I'll take pity on her..._

"Forget it! I can't eat. But I'm up, and I can 'defend' myself now, so go sleep." Buffy shut the final door with a bang.

"Pleasure. Be glad to get away from you." _And back into the guest room, where I've finally discovered the joys of pokin' through people's closets._ That's where all the miscellaneous "junk" that their host had no time for in his busy academic life was kept. The junk turned out to be the best part of the place so far.

"Ditto." Buffy turned to face him, and was treated to the sight of him slowly and deliberately stuffing an entire pastry in his mouth. "You... you!"

"Owf." He said with his mouth full, looking deeply injured. " 'at 'urts, Swayer."

"Go upstairs. You sound like Elmer Fudd on Novocain." She snatched the baked goods off the table and took two.

Spike swallowed. "See you tonight. The watch dog's hittin' the kennel."

"_Go_, Spike."

So he went.

* * *

"She went into the building, here at the front. I'm sorry, the police haven't let anyone in yet, so I'm afraid we can't enter."

"It looks like it's full of asbestos at any rate." Willets said disdainfully. "Where would she have exited from?"

"She couldn't have exited. I told Mr. Travers that, but he insisted the lack of a new Slayer means she is alive. However, the explosion occurred within a minute of her entering, and there's no other exit she could access in that space of time."

"Windows?"

"Second floor."

"She's a Slayer, lad. Second floors wouldn't bother her. Take me to the back of the building."

"Well, we may not be able to get to the back per se..."

"Take us as close as you can get, and I will send my Seeker after her. If she is on this planet, Seeker will find her location and light a path to her."

"Very good." Wesley nodded respectfully, all the while trying to dart glances around the perimeter. _Where are you? I know you'll manage something- but where are you?_

* * *

"There. They got out of the car. I think new Brit dudes want old Brit dude to go around to the back. Now what?" Xander slid back in the car, only to hop right back out of it as Giles flew from the driver's seat. "And we're moving? We're running? What are we-"

"We're moving to cover, we'll start the spell now, we haven't got much time. I'd no idea the service would run so long!"

"It would have been shorter if Jonathan hadn't cried through his whole speech."

"I thought that was beautiful!"

"Hey, me too, but, c'mon, six pages of hiccuping and-"

Giles was locked into one train of thought and spoke through them,"We don't want to do it too far ahead of Willets, in case he can tell if there's already protection surrounding her. Timing is everything."

* * *

"This will do nicely. If you would be silent for a moment..." Willets didn't seem to invoke anything special or mystical, he was simply, quietly powerful. Wesley didn't even hear him speak, nor was there anything to denote something magical was going on. They could have been four bankers or insurance adjusters, four neatly suited men standing a hundred yards south of charred timbers and half melted beams.

Wesley squinted doubtfully as minutes passed. Willets had been retired from active duty for a decade. Perhaps he'd lost his touch. He began to relax.

He shouldn't have. A small shimmer of yellow, almost blending with the burnt grass and the afternoon sky, formed in front of Willets, swelling from a bead to a fist to a plume of transparent golden smoke. The smoke began to take shape.

* * *

They sat in the shape of a triangle, hidden between cars and a stack of debris that had once been the graduation platform, now hauled and stacked, waiting for industrial dumpsters to come and cart it away. "You support her, she supports me, I speak." Giles instructed Xander and Willow in a voice left no time for questions. They simply locked hands and he squinted at the page in his lap. "Omnes qui quaerunt te obscurare, caligine oculis obligare ..."

"Obscure from all who seek to know thee, bind a mist before their eyes..." Willow said it English, speaking second, and Xander would follow her. The language didn't matter, Giles assured them, magic is not always about precision, it's about intent.

"Et qui unicum amicum te nosse dissimulant per occultum hostem ... "

"Only friend and trusted know thee, hidden from foe through this disguise..."

Something took hold. Giles went back to the first verse, and Xander looked at him, then Willow, with growing unease. Willow's hair was lifting in invisible wind, and he could see fine blue lines, like ice cracking, running under her skin. His voice got louder, trying desperately, to be more supportive.

* * *

"There he is, fine little fellow." Willets smiled affectionately down at the form at his knees. "Seeker, sit."

"Extraordinary." Wesley was forced into admiring speech. A hound. A glowing eyed, insubstantial hunting hound- sort of. "I've never seen anything-"

"Silence! Seeker. Pick up her trail. The Slayer. You can smell her, can't you?" Willets voice was now caressing, encouraging.

* * *

"Volare et celaverimus!" The cry rang out, in triplicate.

"Fly and conceal!"

"Fly and conceal!"

"Into the car, quickly." Giles broke the triad, and he and Xander each took one of Willow's arms to support her limp form. "We've done what we can."

"Should we call? Tell her it's underway?"

"No. I don't want to alarm her unnecessarily. I don't think the the magic has a physical manifestation."

* * *

The form floated to and fro, hovering, head bent, then head to the sky. Finally he returned to his master, standing still. "Good boy." Willets' smiled smugly as he commanded his "pet", "Seeker, Fetch!"

* * *

Buffy was sitting on the couch with a Spanish-English dictionary she'd found in the reference area of her host's extremely dull but well stocked library. "Arh! Emile, you're killing me! Speak slower!"

The actors on the television paid no attention, and the sudden burst of canned laughter didn't help. "That does it. Everyone's sleeping with everyone else, and I think that nun is having the millionaire's baby. Or she's really the pool guy's father. Who writes this stuff?" Buffy flung the book down.

The house shook. _That shouldn't happen._

Buffy stood up warily and gently placed the book back on the coffee table. "Sorry I threw you." The house shook again. "Really sorry?"

* * *

Upstairs, Spike sat up, bleary eyed. He'd only just got to bed, right? He looked at the small carriage clock on the dresser. Right. "What's going on?" He called.

"I threw a book!"

He blinked. Well. He'd underestimated her strength. "How big a book are we talkin'?"

The house shook again, and his senses jolted him. "Never mind!" He ran down the stairs.

* * *

Buffy's senses had gone into overdrive as well. "Do you hear that?" She demanded of Spike as he skidded into the living room.

"No, we don't hear it, we feel it."

"Is this an earthquake? I HATE earthquakes."

"Nothing in the house is moving... It's us. It's something affecting us."

"It can't be Travers' guy doing a spell to track me down, right? Wouldn't that just affect me?"

"What'd the little witch say they were gonna do about counteracting that?"

"Some kind of cloaking spell. So the magical tracker whatsis wouldn't be able to find me."

Spike looked around, felt around. "No more slaps from the sensory range..." He muttered after a minute. "Maybe they wrapped both of us up in that spell, hide us both."

"That sounds like them. They think like that." Buffy nodded. "Whew. Sorry to wake you up."

"No worries. Gonna go try to get _another_ fifteen minutes." He turned away, then back. "Hm. Maybe it_ is_ only you." He looked pointedly at her feet.

"What's- oh. Uh-oh." Buffy saw blue tendrils of mist creeping around her ankles. "Okay. Freaked out."

"Does it hurt?" Spike demanded, coming to her side.

"No, but it's really friendly." Buffy walked, and it walked with her.

"That's no ordinary cloaking spell. That's an obscuring spell. Seen 'em used."

"What's the difference?" Buffy kicked at the blue stuff starting to work its way up her waist. Her foot went neatly through it.

"Obscuring spells hide you, cloaking spells just make it as though you weren't there. Obscuring spells work better when someone or something is specifically looking for you."

"How do you know so much?"

"I read. And Dru liked magical things."

"Got it. So... am I the girl in the blue fog bank forever?"

"No... just as long as this thing is searching for you. Doesn't seem too bothersome. Doesn't hurt, you can move, can see, I can see you."

"Shouldn't you_ not_ be able to see me?"

"It hides you from something specific. I must be on the guest list." Spike snarked.

Buffy watched him. He was calm, and joking, but there was something in the way that he moved, the way his eyes never relaxed, that convinced her something else was up. "What is it?"

"Well," he shrugged, and tightened his perimeter on her, circling her now, "if the wall's goin' up, means the enemy's at the gates."

"Oh goody. So, these magical hide and seek spells, can you fight them?"

"With magic. Which seems to be what your little mates have arranged." He gestured to her concealment.

"But no staking, no butt kicking?" She quipped. " 'Cause I'd really like some of that, right about now."

"You might get your chance to practice the ducking and weaving we mentioned."

"We just talked, we never got to train!"

"Yeah, well, battlefield drills." His hand suddenly reached out and latched onto hers, tugging. "Definitely included on the guest list." He smirked as he was able to penetrate the haze. "Let's move." He headed towards the back door.

"It's daylight!"

"It's dark enough in the woods!" He grabbed his coat from where it was sloppily flung on the arm of the sofa and shoved her in front of him.

"Why are we running, I'm in my shield thingy!"

"You ever know you should run? Somethin' in your gut tells you?"

"Yeah." Buffy's words were barely audible as she was hustled in front of him, then swept up in a swipe of black leather as he shielded himself and her by default because they were so close together.

"My gut's sayin' run like hell!"

"Mine says I should've stayed in Sunnydale and kicked some tweedy ass instead of running in the first place!"

"Little late for that now!" Spike moved into the shade and Buffy pushed her way out from his chest. "Well, hullo, Blueberry."

Buffy looked down at her body, and saw the blue wisps were all around her now. "Bad?" She asked wincingly.

"Reckon so." They both looked around the woods, eyes scanning. "Where is it? Gotta be close, you just gonna stop running?" Spike had taken a few steps forward, but she hadn't.

"I'm not gonna keep running until I have something to run from!" Buffy stepped away from him. _I don't run, I fight. This whole this is not my M.O. Whatever that's supposed to mean. Gotta catch up on detective shows..._

"Keep telling you! This is magic, this is hunting, this is _not _fighting!"

A rushing sound, and some indistinct amber shape suddenly bounded at them, entering the edge of the wood with an excited growl. "Oh really?" Buffy put her fists up. "You sure about that?"

* * *

"How long does it take -Seeker, was it? To find her presence?"

"A matter of moments. Longer, if she's very ill or weak, hovering between life and death." Willets said complacently.

"So he's not bound by time and distance?"

Willets gave him an unenthusiastic grimace, as if explaining his spell to such a simpleton was beneath his dignity. "No."

Wesley nodded as if this was a brilliant revelation and asked another clumsily probing question. "Has he tracked slayers before?"

"Never a slayer. Enemies of the Council."

"I see. So what happens when Seeker finds his mark?"

"He returns, locked onto her presence, and he'll lead us to her, so we can return her safely to your care. Even if she moves, once he's identified her presence, he can always find her for us."

"Wonderful."

* * *

"Bloody marvelous. I said run, but do you run?" Spike shouted.

"I'm running now, are you happy?" Buffy outdistanced him by several yards.

"Slalom!" Spike ordered.

"Peace?"

"Zigzag, you twit!" Spike clarified.

So they did,, leaping downed trees, staying in the dense part of the wood, getting slapped by branches and tripped by roots, always hearing the eager rushing sound behind them.

"What is that thing?"

"Some sort of familiar!" Spike hazarded to look back. "Great big golden dog, if you ask me."

"I thought familiars were cats!"

"It's whatever the caster chooses, and it doesn't stick in one shape, and are we _really_ havin' this conversation _now_?" He ducked under his coat and cleared a patch of sun.

"We need a plan! Eventually it's going to catch me. I can't run forever."

"You're right." Spike stopped and Buffy stopped with a skid in the peaty earth. "Let's see how good your little witch is at conjuring, shall we?"

The golden form bounded up to them, and made straight for Buffy.

"Nice puppy. Goood puppy, friendly puppy..." Buffy soothed, inching away as it seemed to sniff the mist surrounding her. It circled several times, sniffing, steeping forward, prancing back, stepping forward again.

"Confused. It thinks you're somewhere, but it can't be sure." Spike murmured softly.

"That's good."

* * *

Seeker was puzzled. He had her scent, knew the being he wanted. And he'd thought sure he had it. Was close to it. But then- at the last second- he'd lost it. Something was surrounding it, blurring it from him, confusing him. As if there was a big wall around his quarry. If he could just get over it, or become strong enough to burst through it...

The light rippled around the canine figure, and it changed. The snout elongated, and its spine ridged, taking the shape of something bigger, meaner.

* * *

"I liked the puppy." Buffy whispered.

"Stay still... I think it's tryin' to get through your little blue barricade." Spike muttered from tensed lips.

"Can it do that?"

The form growled deep in its chest, lunged, and fell back as if stung. It shook itself off, and changed again.

"Well, it's gonna make a bloody good attempt." Spike tried not to panic as he watched it shift. _What the hell do I do? It's made of light and spells. Never could fight the insubstantial muck. I don't know how to make her stronger, or it weaker, can't outrun it, she's half hidden..._

"Okay... I've seen hellhounds. If hellhounds and werewolves ever got locked in a coat closet at an office party- that's what they'd have nine months later." Buffy yelped as the beast shivered and rippled, sprouting muscles along the corded spine, fangs, long claws and longer, savage feet.

"Stay. Still." Spike hissed, and walked around beside it. "Oi!" The wolfish beast paid him no heed. He kicked at it. His foot went right through.

"I'm curious about your plan." Buffy said in a tight voice.

"The bigger he gets, the more power he has. Maybe he thinks eventually he can outlast your cloaking, or overpower it."

"Well... he already knows I'm here!"

"But he can't get a lock on you, not through that mist! That's what being 'obscured' means in this case."

"So call Willow and Giles and tell them we need a bigger spell!" She reached into her coat pocket and tossed him the cell phone. He reached out and snagged it, passing his arm quickly between her body and the head of her tracker.

There was a deep whine and the dog backed up a few paces shaking its head.

"Hey... what was that about?" Buffy asked.

"It doesn't like when I cross in front of you. He knows you're in there- but just barely. He's confused." The beast sat on its haunches for a moment, cocked its head and growled before getting back to its feet. Spike moved around, and inserted himself fully between Buffy and the golden shape. "Maybe I can confuse it more."

It certainly seemed confounded. It paced, sniffed, and circled, but Spike moved with it. "No one's here but us. Just you an' me, doggy. Be a good little witch's helper and run back to your boss..."

They circled for minutes, Spike kept up his steady stream of banter to ease the tedium. "You can do this all day, pup. Eventually they'll recall you, an' I'll still be here, guardin' my goods."

"Hey! I'm not a package. "

"You're the package right now, so stow it." Spike growled over his shoulder. "You can't even tire me out, hound dog, takes more than walking in circles to put this vamp down."

"Spike, don't taunt it, okay?"

"Why not? It can't hurt me. He looks scary, but he's just a big ball of light." Spike kicked out at it.

This time his foot connected. "Oh. _Shit_."

"Shit? Why is there shit?" Buffy moaned faintly.

"No reason." Spike lied, then lunged. Buffy shouted in surprise as she saw them tussling on the ground, and went to join the fray. "Slayer, no! Don't touch it! Don't reach for it, it couldn't touch you before but it's solid now, that might change the game." Spike was pinned under the beast, but not for long, and he kept shouting. "Or maybe _you_ can get to _it_, then the who knows what happens."

"What happens is we smack it down and kill it?" She wasn't good at watching fights, especially not ones that should rightfully be _hers_.

"And what if Rover turns back to untouchable? Sucks up your precise life force or your aura whereabouts and can trail you anywhere, as long as you live? Let me deal with it!"

For one of the few times in her life- Buffy sat back, on the sidelines, and watched someone fight a battle for her.

She hated it. It was one of the worst things she'd ever seen. She'd seen Angel killed by her own hand and dying by Faith's, seen Giles taken, her mother taken, all of them taken and hurt, and yet this made her stomach twist in a completely different, unsettling way.

_Never seen anyone fight like him._

The two forms churned the ground to a mass of claw marks and mud, with bites and blows. No matter what- Spike didn't quit, didn't even slow down.

_He smiles. He smiles through it. He's laughing... He's nuts. _

_ Or maybe he just loves to fight._

_ Maybe he knows he's going to win?_

* * *

First proper battle. This was earning his reward, this was the fun part. Okay, it hurt like a bitch, but that always went away, outside pain faded in hours. Inside pain never left you, and every little blow was bringing him closer to getting a cure for Dru- and ending that inner anguish. For both of them.

He must've gotten relaxed, must've gotten cocky, and the beast knew it. It whimpered and shimmered and changed, and slid out from under him like nothing. It turned solid as it ran, straight back to its original target.

"NO!" Spike dragged himself up, and vaulted, landed on its back, shoved it down hard, and kept clawing past him, demon face on.

Buffy was ready to spring, to hell with Spike's advice. She wasn't going to stand here and get ripped up, and she trusted Willow and Giles' abilities to cast something to protect her. Mostly. "Alright. C'mere, Bad Puppy." She flexed her fingers and bent her knees.

She felt her knees go out, and felt herself drug down, into the wet earth. But it wasn't the Council's little helper, it was Spike. Shoving her down, pulling her underneath him.

"What are you doing?"

"Shhh." He threw his weight down on top of her, chest to her back, an undead shield.

Demon and Hound stared nose to nose. "_You. Won't. Win_." Spike growled, fangs snapping.

The spectral dog sniffed, shimmered, and howled once, a confused mournful sound. It sniffed the air, cocked its head, and sat down, reverting to the form of a simple pet. He'd tried to find something for his master, and he knew it existed. But he'd never know where. Not with that sudden wall that went up and befuddled him, always just as he thought he'd found something. Not when every time he moved towards the presence he could _almost _feel, something big and wretched attack him. Seeker sat still.

Spike didn't make the same mistake of getting relaxed twice. He learned from his mistakes- all of them except the ones involving women, it seemed. "_Mine_." He growled, snapping fiercely in its face.

With a yip, the form vanished.

* * *

"Good boy, Seeker, there you are!" Willets waited expectantly for his faithful source to heel.

Wesley waited as well, trying to mask a near coronary with a look of rapt fascination. "Astounding!"

"Seeker never lets me down. That was quite a long stint, old chap. You used a fair bit of my energy as well." Willets admonished gently, dabbing his brow with a neatly folded handkerchief. "Now- revert." The form shrank, back to a wisp of light, back to a bead, back into his palm. "Give me a moment. I will soon know what he knows."

Wesley and the other two gentlemen waited the moment, and waited several more, watching Willets' face contract in a myriad of frowns, grimaces, and downright lost expressions. "Sir?" One finally ventured.

"This is most unusual. This is very, very odd." He pressed a hand to his temple. "Seeker felt her. She's alive."

"Oh! Joyous news!" Wesley cried in a strangled voice.

"Where?" Another companion cried eagerly.

"That's the odd part. When this spell is performed, the tracker finds the person we seek, and can guide us to them. No matter where they are, the bottom of the ocean, the tallest mountain, he trails their presence." He blinked in puzzlement. "But all I can see is that she is alive. That he was aware of his quarry, but never 'found' her. I ask him to guide me, and he stays still. There's no trail to her."

"Goodness." Wesley put a hand to his smooth cheek. "What can that mean?"

Willets could not conceive of his magic failing, so he made the next logical deduction. "That she has an incredibly strong force protecting her from being discovered. Whether that force is good or bad, I cannot say."

Neither can I right now, Wesley thought, recalling the various forms of protection surrounding her, and followed Willets from the school's burnt field.

* * *

He was triumphant as he let her lead him, bit burnt, very scratched, into the house. "Did you see that? Flashed the fangs at the end there and he was off like a shot!"

"No, sorry, I had my head slammed into a mud puddle." Buffy masked the strange feeling of gratitude with sarcasm. "Was that part really necessary?"

"Yep. Show the big dog a bigger, badder dog and he gets the message. Plus he prolly figured he'd done his best and wasn't gettin' through your shell." Her blue barrier was gone, and he guessed it had worn off now, either due to the stretch of time or the lack of threat.

"In that case- thank you." Buffy pulled a twig from her hair. "Get ready to run, we're about to hit the back yard."

"Right-o." He smirked, pulled up his jacket and tore through the sun, smoking as he went.

Buffy watched him, saw him limping as he ran, smelled the singeing of leather. "Damn. I better be nice to him tonight."

* * *

"You can stop bein' nice to me." Spike couldn't take that. Hours of almost quiet, hours of a minimum of snark. Made him practically itch to shake her and ask her if aliens had sucked out her brain somewhere between the edge of the woods and the back porch, the only time he'd left her side that day.

She poured him his blood in a coffee cup, she put a popover next to it. She got the overzealously stocked first aid kit Giles had sent with them and left it outside the bathroom door so he could treat his burns after he washed the mud off. She let him sleep, then when he woke up, she did the blood trick again and offered him the Spanish-English dictionary and left him alone to watch telly. In short- she wasn't acting at all like herself and that was nearly as annoying as her at her most irritating.

"You want me to act all bitchy?" Buffy asked when he made his declaration.

"Better than fake nice." He shrugged.

"Hey! This is genuine nice. 'Wigged and a little skeeved that I'm doing it' nice, but still genuine!" She defended herself hotly.

He instantly began to relax. "There we go..."

"What am I supposed to do?" Buffy threw up her hands. "You did something awesome for me, and I can't let you have a hot meal?"

"You could let me have a _real_ hot meal." He tapped his neck.

"And with that, we're back to me being a bitch." Buffy collapsed moodily on the sofa, far apart as she could get from him.

He chuckled, and sipped his drink.

She watched a commercial pass in front of her eyes- she wasn't sure if it was for counter tops or paper towels based on the way the Spanish spokeswoman was dancing around her kitchen. Spike idly picked up the dictionary and then dropped it with a tired sigh.

_He barely slept today. I got up late. Then we had the backyard brawl. Then he got hungry again. Makes sense. He goes insane when he's got something to fight, he must be starving. I know what slaying does to my appetite._ She flushed. _Appetites. _"Why'd you fight like that?"

"Huh?" Spike sat up straighter.

"Why?" She insisted

"Part of the deal. I keep you safe, I get my trinket." He shrugged uncomfortably.

"I know that. But- you don't fight like that all the time. I never saw you fight like that with me."

He laughed. "I wasn't fightin' with you today, I was fightin' _for _you. Big difference in style when you're fightin' _for_ someone."

Her mild flush of a moment ago returned full force. "You don't have to lie. I know you weren't fighting for me. I've seen people fight for me. Doesn't look like that." She whispered.

"Hey- I told you the truth. I was fightin' for someone. Believe it or not."

"Oh, I believe it. Just not the 'for _me_' part."

He let his lips rest on a bruised knuckle for a few minutes before he conceded, "You're good, Slayer. Real good."

"Thanks." She murmured. "So- who?"

"Who do you think? I withdraw my compliment." He rolled his eyes.

"I don't want to sound stupid and say the wrong thing." She snapped defensively.

"Fine. For Drusilla, okay? I always fight for her, I was fighting for her today, I fight for her every day. Happy?"

She nodded. Then shook her head. "She's sick. I asked Giles and he said- he has something that would heal her."

"Mhm. Menfra's Eye."

"Yeah, everyone keeps saying that, and I have no clue what it is." Buffy confessed. "We kinda did a big picture, outline format of this plan, because we were busy preventing world-endage at the same time. Gotta prioritize."

"What is it with you and apocalypses?" Spike leaned back and gazed at the ceiling, feet on the coffee table.

"I know, right? I guess someone up there hates me." Buffy assumed the same position.

"Life of the Slayer, blessing and a curse."

"How come you're the only one who gets that?" Buffy sighed.

"I know Slayers, what can I say?" His face turned blatantly hungry for a minute, and Buffy hurriedly changed the topic.

"Alright, so Menfra's Eye? What's it do?"

"Menfra was some old deity who was the goddess of minds and healing powers, accordin' to your old man. You own her eye, you can use it to restore someone's mind, make 'em better up here." He tapped his cranium.

Buffy lifted her head and gave him a disbelieving glance. "Wait. This thing is going to make Drusilla _sane_?"

"If I can just keep you alive, yeah."

"Spike- why would you do that?"

"What?" He sat up angrily.

"I'm all for mental health, but - um- that's a big change for her. Or did she used to be normal?"

Spike chuckled bitterly at the foolishness of the uninformed. "She was never 'normal', Slayer, she was always special. She had visions. She heard the voices of God and angels."

"Sounds cracked to me." Buffy mumbled.

"It was poetic! It was perfect! What it was _not_, was unbreakable. Your precious pet did that to her, broke her into a thousand pieces until she had nothing left reliable anymore, visions went dark and became tainted with lies and sins..."

"Vampire. Isn't dark, lying, and sinful par for the course?"

He grit his teeth. "She can't love anyone anymore!"

Buffy frowned, her eyebrows pressing together. "She wouldn't love anyway. Not without a soul. Demons can't love."

He wanted to slap her. He wanted to bite her. He had a sudden inexplicable desire to ask her what she knew of love, and tell her she was wrong, because her true love was a selfish bastard so she never could've experienced true love, with both parties involved. _But neither have I..._

He settled for spitting out harshly, "So _I _can't love? So that fight? So that list where it says we'd do anything for the people we love? All lies?"

_Never seen anyone fight like him. Never backed down, not even a step... Fighting for someone, he said. I don't know what else can drive a person like that. Who knows? Maybe? _"Exceptions to every rule." Buffy conceded softly.

"Maybe you just don't know the rules." He lost the harsh edge.

"Maybe not. I don't have much time to study them, if they're even written down."

"No, they aren't." He nodded and eyed her speculatively. "You're good, Slayer. Compliment reinstated."

"Yay me!" She managed to give him a weak smile. "So... you keep me safe, Drusilla gets all her marbles back, and then you two get back together?"

It sounded criminally simple when she said it like that. Too simple. What exactly did he expect to happen? _What if she- No. No, you don't second guess. It's your best shot, and your best, craziest shot is better than no shot at all. We do _"Yeah, Slayer. That's what happens." He said firmly.

_Wow. Crazy. But at least he tries, even if it's crazy. Better than someone giving up on you._ "Lucky." Buffy smiled at him. A broad, genuine smile. Miraculously, he smiled back.

He turned the volume down slightly on the telly as she smiled, feeling an uncharacteristic fondness for her budding. "You feelin' okay?"

"Yeah. I'll feel better when I can talk to everyone about today, the service and stuff, but I'm okay for now."

Spike cocked his head. "Service? Thought that was yesterday."

"It was. But- _my_ service was this morning." Her lips spasmed slightly. "My mom is probably drinking straight schnapps by now."

"Your mum? Classy lady like her? Nah."

"Oh no, she likes the peppermint stuff when she's upset."

Spike studied her. "Look like you could use somethin' stiff yourself." _Bugger, why did that suddenly sound dirty in my head?_

Buffy twitched but continued as though she hadn't just had the urge to think like a fourteen year old boy, "I don't drink. Ice cream and chocolate are my vices."

"We could go get you some chocolate, store's still open."_ Why'd I say that?_

_Why'd he say that?_ "I'm in my pjs. I just want to curl up on the couch and watch something relaxing and pretend nothing is wrong. But... I'll do that tomorrow." Spike, hero- or hero-ish person of the day, deserved the night to himself, without their constant grating. "You enjoy trying to figure out what the heck these people are saying." She nodded to a boisterously arguing couple.

"Hang on, hang on." Spike put his hand up to halt her as she began to scoot off the couch. "You don't have to go hide in your room on my account. My Spanish is rusty. I speak some Italian. Spanish is close, but not exact."

"Okay." She took the dictionary from his hand and the smiles met briefly once more. "Just until Giles calls."

* * *

"I'm sorry we're so late." Giles called her just before midnight.

"No, that's okay. Hey, Giles, is diablo Spanish for devil?"

"Er- yes, I believe so."

"Darn it!"

"You owe me a dollar."

"I know!"

"Buffy, what's going on?"

"I thought it meant volcano, and we're missing a page out of the D section. I don't know why I didn't see it, I was having a hard time with the context, and they kept showing a volcano. Now I get it, the devil cursed Maria, so she threw herself into the- hang on."

Giles looked in confusion at the phone.

"No, no, we're both wrong, El Diablo is the name of the volcano, but it's a nickname, they call it 'The Devil' because it's like hell. Yes, yes, I believe you know the name of hell in Spanish, geez, Spike!"

"Well, I'm guessing our spell was successful and you had no trouble with a certain 'golden dog-like' presence seeker?" Giles looked at Wesley, who'd supplied that description.

"Oh! Oh oh oh! Okay, first we felt this weird thudding, but nothing in the house was moving, and Spike and I could both feel it, and smokey stuff was around my ankles-"

"I imagine you saw something of the Obscurati spell. You both felt it, you as the protected, and him as the 'trusted one', the term the spell uses for those allowed to see you. But it isn't supposed to appear unless you have an active foe in the area."

"Right! Back to the golden doggy. So, we had a sunshine-y little beagle looking thing, and it went all- 'swoosh!' and then it was like some great dane on steroids, then it was all evil wolf-dog warrior and there's this blue mist around me and it was snapping and then it was all grr and these big-"

Giles couldn't keep up, though he tried. He called for back up. "Hang on! Stop yammering and- Xander can you come here and translate, please?"

"Buffster! You should totally have been at the service today. So moving! Cordy actually spent money on something other than clothes. She _cried._ And didn't talk about herself more than others."

"Oooh, rekindling romance?"

"Hell no. But-"

"The spell please!"Giles' voice crashed over them.

"Sorry!" Both teens cried.

After an epic replay of the battle (minus the name of her valiant-for-the-right-price bodyguard), a multilayered and moving depiction and word for word account of the memorial service which had everyone (but Spike) in tears, Wesley took the phone.

"I'm not supposed to be associate with Mr. Giles too much at the moment, Travers is highly suspicious, and he's cut me from his web. Willets doesn't seem to be aware of his reasons for finding you, nonetheless, due caution."

"Is that the whiny one?" Spike asked.

"Yes." Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Tell him to wrap it up. I think we're about to find out there was a secret passage under the volcano... or the old auntie's lost her luggage. Without you workin' A-L, I'm screwed on the plot."

"My life beats the eight o'clock movie for plot any day." Buffy joked and ignored his impatient huff.

"I'll be brief. Buffy, they know you're alive but they can't be led to you by the 'Seeker' that Willets sent after you. That won't stop them from picking up your trail via human methods instead of magical ones. Fortunately, you're well covered in that aspect. The only precaution you can take short of moving to a new safe house is to stay inside as much as possible. Avoid contact with any neighbors, locals, use your false name..."

"I'm already out in the middle of nowhere! My big thrill was going to Grocery World twice this week!"

"And the Larkins." Spike grumbled.

"And this couple from up the street."

"Well, the nice couple up the street will have to think you're very ill and Sp- special shopping arrangements will have to be made. Giles is also working on a secondary option for a hiding place if you need it."

"Arggggh. How much longer until you get something on Travers?"

"We're waiting on calls back."

"I want to speak to Giles." Buffy growled.

Giles reappeared on the line. "What has the prat done?"

"Nothing... I just like hearing bad news better from you."

"I have a call into my very old friend, Robson. We were a year apart at the Academy. He's never supported Travers wholeheartedly, and was very vocal about abolishing the Cruciamentum and spoke out against my dismissal. What's more-" Giles lowered his voice, "he's engaged to one of the Council's bookkeepers. If Travers hires an assassin through diverted funds..." He sighed silently. "I'm afraid it simply isn't enough to have one chain of evidence. The more ammunition we have the better. And of course, we have to be careful who we can trust. If Travers is dirty, who knows who else is?"

"You have calls in, great, but why aren't they calling you back? Don't they know this is urgent?" Her voice was pleading. "I need to get _home. _I have to let people know I'm okay, and thank them for- all the nice stuff they said about me, for all they did for my mom." Joyce's conversation had revealed she was inundated with sympathy cards and casseroles. And that she was miserable and guilty for accepting it all, and was making lists of casseroles she had to make in return once Buffy came home safely.

"They know it's important, but I can hardly get them alarmed, set the Watcher's headquarters buzzing with the rumor that 'Rupert Giles has something he urgently and privately wants discussed.' Travers will have a contract on me next."

Buffy dropped her phone because her hands suddenly turned to ice, fingers went numb and nerveless.

"Buffy!" Spike bent to retrieve the phone and felt her feebly pulling at his wrist, hands cupped loosely around his so she could hold the phone to her ear. "What happened?"

"Giles! You come up here! Get away from there, get out of town, you-you have to come up here _now_!"

"I can't, I need to arrange this."

"You can't let them hurt you!"

"I won't. I promise."

She knew it was a promise he couldn't keep. And she wasn't in a position to help him, to help any of them keep a promise like that. Her lips began to tremble and she felt something cool touch her, right on the back of the neck, and sliding down, resting on the middle of her back.

_Got my back. That's a nice gesture, but it doesn't help them. _ "Giles..."

"If you don't let me do this, you'll never make it home alive. And your mother won't have any support when she _truly _needs it, Buffy."

The hand on her back pressed harder, and she looked up into intent blue eyes, slightly frowning mouth. "He has your back. It's what made him a good Watcher." Spike spoke so softly it appeared to be merely mouthed.

"What _makes_ him. They can fire him a hundred times, but he's still my Watcher." Buffy correctly thickly.

"Listen, Buffy. We'll make an arrangement." Giles blinked hard, overhearing the muffled exchange, thinking about the strangeness of pretending to lay her to rest, and how much it made him realize, more than ever, that she needed to be alive. "I'll stay safe, if you will too."

She laughed wetly. "Can't pass that up."

"I thought not. I'll speak to you in the morning."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

She pushed Spike's hand away softly, and he placed the phone on her knee.

He felt her shoulders twitch once, twice, and then just keep shaking.

She felt the pressure of his hand increase, moving her forward, forward, until her forehead hit his sternum.

He didn't dare move.

She tried not to cry.

Didn't work. She couldn't stop. He rubbed her back.

_Fucked up day she's had..._

_ He's the only one here..._

_ Won't hurt. Just for a second, 'til she pulls herself together. Part of the job._

_ He's a murdering, maiming vampire. But he's a damn good partner. He _does _have my back._

She bowed more deeply. He rubbed more gently.

They stayed like that for almost an hour- mainly because neither one knew how to let go.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	9. Chapter 9

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: We're moving right along folks. Some of it's murky, but stay with me, we're almost at one of those infamous "breaking points"._

_Author's Second Note: For those of you who are looking for hard and fast clarity- you're not going to find it. Lots of things (especially mystical things and emotional things) are hiding, in more ways that one. Don't obsess over that, just read and relax, I promise an interesting time. _

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of show's dialogue will be used._

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Spike is the BIG BAD, Alexiarrose, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Sirius120, ShyL, Alottalove, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, micmoc, seapea, rororogers, Haleycc, Sushibar, jackiemack916,Touch the Dark, ValidescopeWest, Mike13z50, Rachel, Cavementftw, Draconi9, diebrichen, and Blade Redwind._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part IX**

_Day Seven..._

"Good afternoon- or rather morning where you are, Mr. Pryce."

"Good morning, Sir." Wesley scrambled for the tape recorder, but he needn't have bothered. Sufficiently suspicious, not of Wesley, but of the situation in general, Travers kept his tones and statements void of any emotion or intent.

"Most distressing and confusing news from from Willets, wouldn't you say?"

"Well..." Wesley frowned and groped for words. Was he acting the part of co-conspirator, bereaved Watcher, hopeful Watcher? Quentin wasn't letting him have room to speak, however.

"Very strange. Alive but untraceable. Hopefully you can shed some light on that?"

"The only reasonable explanation I can conceive of is that she was injured in the blast, perhaps blown free of the building, through the second floor windows. In her injured state, she may have been picked up and transported elsewhere. It could be through her own means, perhaps she's confused, or a kindly motorist may have-"

"Yes, yes, very possible. However- why is she untraceable? That denotes deliberately cloaking herself from the outside world."

_No, just from you and those under your nefarious command. _Wesley cleared his throat. "Perhaps her lover, the one known as Angel, took her with him, and concealed them somehow. He hasn't been seen since that night, either."

"I'll have him traced and followed, to see if he's harboring the Slayer."

_Red herring one._ "Perhaps an enemy, one of the mayor's men, has captured her, wants to use her as a pawn or as retribution." _Red herring two._

"Hmm. We'll leave that up to you to investigate, as you're on site."

_Wonderful. He hopes to get me killed now as well. Sending someone like me- or who he thinks I am, up against the mayor's followers? Suicide by proxy._ "Hrm. I shall make inquiries."

"You're positive Buffy's essence hasn't merged with Faith's in some manner? We've never done comprehensive research on the nature of Slayers' souls or the inner power they-"

"Don't talk nonsense, Pryce."

He felt a flood of anger at being so easily dismissed, talked down to. That was what Travers wanted. A cur to kick about and to lick his boots. He was rash, but guardedly so. Still, later he would regret it. "She may have had a prophetic dream. Showing she was in some..._ danger_ or other. She may have thought it prudent to hide. For some reason."

Silence. Travers let the words sink in, delved past the general innocuous meanings until he reached the personal implications. "She has had those dreams before."

"I've heard."

"But she always consulted her Watcher."

"Ms. Summers, though I tried, did not view me as her Watcher."

"Rupert Giles!" Travers slammed the phone down, picked it back up, and furiously dialed another Englishman residing in America.

* * *

"Mm?" Giles had taken to sleeping on the couch of late, and he reached back and grabbed the phone. It continued to ring.

Giles sat up and found his glasses. He was holding the cell phone instead of his house line. He placed the "enchanted" object down "Damn it all... where is it?" He sat up fully, and reached for the phone still ringing. "Yes?"

"Ah. Good morning, Rupert."

Giles took a moment to piece together the voice, the situation, and then his blood went through a series of red hot rages and black ice fear. "Quentin."

"Did Ms. Summers come to you with any visions before she left?"

"Left? Before she died?"

"Oh come now. I know she's alive." Travers laughed drily.

Giles went for gut instinct. "How _dare_ you? You stupid, selfish, evil little bastard! How dare you mock my pain? I knew you hated that I loved her, but to rub the fact that I've lost her- not just lost my sacred duty to her, lost the job that I trained my entire life for, but actually lost _her_!"

"Rupert-" Travers was momentarily taken aback. The enraged ranting, the deep blooded fury- it couldn't be an act. Could it?

"Shut your face!" Oh God it felt good to scream, take his rage out on the man he could quite cheerfully have hung by his silk tie. "You know, you could've tried to be human, not some piece of cardboard. Oh, I know it goes against the grain, Quentin, I know you're a miserable, hard, soulless man... you've seen so many die, and you feel nothing for them! But you could've tried- just this once, to respect the fact that some of us loved her, and mourn her."

"Mr. Giles! Listen to me-"

"No." The screaming died to a husk of a frozen whisper. "No. Never again. You're not my employer. You're certainly not a friend. I have nothing more to say to you."

"_I_ may have more to say to _you_." Travers recalled more and more why he disliked Rupert Giles. No one dared throw his power back in his face, or refuse to acknowledge it.

"Do you? Then let me clarify the position. I will not_ listen_ to anything you have to say." Giles hung up the phone, and sat on the edge of the couch breathing hard.

"Bloody hell, I needed that."

* * *

"You haven't told Mr. Giles she's alive?" Travers demanded incredulously.

Wesley had no idea what had happened in the few moments between phone calls, except he now imagined his "superior" had spoken to Giles. "I- uh- he's lost in grief, Sir, I've tried to be supportive, but he seems closer to others than to myself."

"He acted as if he didn't know, as if I'd made the whole thing up about her being alive."

"I thought-" he coughed quietly, "perhaps it was kinder to wait until she's found, not get his hopes up."

Kindness was not one of his considerations, never had been. You don't rule the world with kindness, you rule it with an iron fist, and he who controls the greatest weapon controls the world. "Perhaps it's wise not to discuss it with anyone. Say nothing. I'd like to get a chance to gauge reactions. Not myself personally of course, but the Council will send someone to investigate."

"So don't disclose this possibility."

"Not _you_. Not now. I've spoken to Mr. Giles, but if his reaction was genuine, I'm not overly concerned about him communicating my suspicions to the others."

Wesley didn't know the reaction, not having been privy to the conversation, so he merely made a noncommittal noise.

"I'll leave you to your day." Travers bid him farewell, then hesitated. "You honestly think he's not helping her remain 'hidden'? From all you've seen in the last few days?" Travers worded it carefully.

Wesley set his jaw, swallowed. He wasn't good at lying to those in authority. "All I can say, Sir, without any doubt, is that I've never seen a man so utterly heartbroken as Rupert Giles."

* * *

"Watch Rupert Giles. Summers' mother. A girl, Willow Rosenberg. A boy, Xander Harris. Find the vampire, Angelus. Her father's moved to Los Angeles but has nothing to do with her. Loose surveillance on him. I don't believe any of them are in contact, based on a preliminary phone records search, but those will be the first she contacts."

"What about the girl herself?"

"I have- specialists- ascertaining her trail."

* * *

"Buffy."

"Whoa. Heavy voice." Buffy stopped pushing her cereal around the blue-flowered china bowl.

"Just a quick reminder, can't really talk much today." Giles fluffed his hair absently.

"You sound like you've been shouting. Did Xander eat cheese curls on your couch again?"

"I just met Wesley 'accidentally on purpose', as I believe you'd say. He thinks I'm about to placed under surveillance."

"What? Not good!"

"Don't panic, that's why we prepared." He soothed. "Travers will be actively searching for you now. I wanted you to remember we were serious when we said you had to be more cautious. Stay inside."

"_All the time_?" Buffy demanded, mentally adding bars to the windows. "I'll get pale and pasty. Just being up here makes me paler and pastier. The sun only has a part-time job in this town!"

"Would you rather have hordes of assassins chasing you?"

"Could I beat them up?" She asked cheerfully.

"They'd be swarming an innocent neighborhood." If she wouldn't play for her own safety, she'd play for others'.

"How long?" She finally asked. She'd been asking, been whining, been completely immature a lot of the time. But she had to ask anyway. She kept hoping one day his answer would be different. But it wasn't.

"As soon as I can end it, I will." He added the bad news with precise, controlled words, steeling himself. "I can't come up there, Buffy. Not if they're watching me."

She took deep breaths. _Don't put him at risk. You can't. You _can't. "Just be safe."

"That's our pact, after all." He allowed himself a small fractured smile. "You be safe, I'll be safe."

"I promise." She said. She meant it.

* * *

"Do you mean to tell me I've got to follow a list? Like an errand boy?"

"I mean you have to shop alone because I'm 'sick'. And return the plate to the Larkins' okay?" Buffy confronted Spike at dusk with a grocery list and a lack of eye contact. Last night, and yesterday had been a little too close for comfort. Or maybe exactly close enough, and the comfort was supposed to be forgotten and ignored.

"Seriously? We're gonna run up to the market for all of fifteen minutes. You could wait in the bloody car. If they've just started to hunt you down, they won't be here yet."

"Why do you care? I thought you'd be glad to get some time without me underfoot."

"Are you insane? I'm gonna be shittin' bricks the whole time! This is stupid. I can't leave you alone, and you can't leave. Why can't you leave?" He demanded, hand to the table top with a thump.

"I made a deal. You know about that. Offers you can't refuse?"

"Giles?"

"Who else?" She laughed. "If I don't take risks, he won't."

"How do you know he won't? He'd risk his neck to save yours any day, and so would you."

_Okay, so this is what devils did. They tempted you right?_ "Why are you harping on this?"

"Because one, I'm not gonna let you stay in the house alone, who knows when our little ball of glowing fur and fangs might bounce back in? An' two, you hate bein' caged."

She did. It made her go insane. She was used to action now, and she'd do almost anything to relieve the boredom after a few days of being grounded or in this case, being hidden. _But you don't have to show that weakness to Spike. He's seen way too many already._ "What makes you say that?" She asked carelessly.

"I can tell. Way you move. Way your eyes never stop wandering. Mainly because when _someone_ put me in a wheelchair and _I_ was confined to one soddin' floor, I almost blew my bloody brains out just for the distraction."

"Not like it'd be fatal." She kidded weakly. _He notices so much about me. Very stalkery. Not okay. Yet... appreciated in the 'thank you for actually being able to tell I'm about to go nuts' way. _

Spike grunted impatiently. _Fine, make me spell it out. Which I just did, and it went right over that little blonde bubble on the top of her neck. Simplify. _"Look, I just get it. Add it to our list. 'Can't take cabin fever'."

"Amen."

"So? It's a risk if you come, it's a risk if you don't. Ride in the back, down on the floorboards, covered in blankets. I did it half the trip up here. No one'll know. I'll even-" he played his trump card, "follow the list. No arguing, no substitutions, just complete obedience." His smirk transformed into an expression of mock innocence.

She rose quickly. "Well, that's a once in a lifetime opportunity. Count me in."

* * *

"You're gonna count the money?" Spike couldn't believe it.

"It might have to last awhile, the way this is going." Buffy grumbled, comparing the change he'd given her to the receipt she took from the bag. "Hm. It matches. You really did get exactly what was on the list."

He smiled evilly, and opened his palm, extending it from his hanging sleeve. "I'm not gonna steal from you- that hurts me in the long run, this time." He rolled his eyes and let a jar of nail polish, a lighter, and a chocolate bar fall to the table. "Stealin' from the store on the other hand..."

"This is stolen?" Buffy cried and pushed the black nail polish and other items away.

"But I got what was on the list." He chanted in a singsong voice.

"You idiot! You'll get caught and we'll end up in jail and -"

"Oh please, Slayer!" He snorted. "Stolen from a thousand shops in a hundred years. Never been caught yet."

"There's a first time for everything." Buffy muttered grimly.

"Yeah, first time- and last- I'll do somethin' nice for you." He shoved the candy bar back at her. "Weren't you belly achin' about needin' chocolate the other day?"

Her mouth practically watered. "Maybe."

"Don't want it, I'll eat it myself." He took it back.

"Shut up and give it to me." She gave in with a groan. "Oh, and if the black stuff is for me- not my best shade."

"Polish is mine. Although you did mention you needed some." He recalled.

Eyes met, shifted. With an extremely deep, pain-filled sigh, Buffy broke the candy bar in half. "I don't like black, but if you'll share- I'll share."

Spike chuckled and reached into his pocket. It emerged with a half dozen bottles and a half dozen bars.

"Spike!" She cried.

"I don't just steal a buck ninety's worth of stuff, Slayer. I have my standards. Besides, I didn't know your shade. An' I like chocolate. Preferably on a nice moist body, but I-"

"Ewww! That's like- crimes against candy! Not cool, even for vampires."

"Not a _dead_ body, like Dru's body!" Spike glared. She blushed and stammered something along the lines of "Oh. Like that."

_ Dru always stayed pale. This one- this one had an interesting palette of colors she passed through in a day. Diamond, emerald, rose, honey. Quite the paint box. _He coughed. "I'll do you, if you do me, deal?"

_He means the nails. When did the word 'do' have nasty hidden meanings? Okay, the fact that he even considered sharing nail painting is so cringe-worthy. _

They were both shocked to hear Buffy say, "Okay."

She reached for the bottle of light pink, finding his hand around it. He was handing it to her. Fingers brushed.

Something made a spark.

* * *

_Day Eight..._

"Yes! Rain!" Buffy rolled over in bed and what she'd just said made her shake her head and put a hand to her forehead "That proves it. I'm losing my mind completely." She'd never liked rain before, but rain meant clouds and clouds and rain meant extra dark in the woods and that meant- sparring.

* * *

"It's called _sparring._ Not 'kick the vampire'." Spike's knee gave out and didn't give back in. He looked up at her in annoyance, half sprawled on the ground.

"You said I didn't have to hold back!" Buffy laughed and continued to bounce around him.

"I said much! Didn't have to 'hold back much'." He disagreed.

Buffy groaned and stopped the bouncing, bending forward and resting her hands on her knees. "Want me to pick you up and give you a piggy back ride to the house since your leg is obviously about to come off?"

He closed his eyes and then opened one to give her a withering look. "Think I'd rather crawl one legged than ride you, Slayer."

He winced. How did everything always come out sounding bad? He used the rough yet provocative edge of his tongue with every pretty thing- but it was the fact that this _particular_ pretty thing shouldn't seem pretty, and didn't make jokes and didn't take them kindly either.

If she'd just slap him or insult him or even do that annoying "Ewww!" sound he could've laughed it off, he could've made it worse, gotten truly disgusting with it. So what did she do? Got all embarrassed looking and took her hands back and said "Okay" like she'd caused the whole thing.

_Why does she do things like that?_ He growled and sprang. It was the best thing he could think to do.

"Heeey!" Buffy went over backwards with a startled look on her face, wide eyed and completely off balance.

"Never let your guard down, Slayer. Even with a one-legged man." He winked, palms on her shoulders, gloating down from on top of her.

"You are so gonna pay for that." Buffy felt mud squish into the back of her hair. "Gross. Do you realize Giles is probably going to have to pay for a plumber for this guy? We've brought a lot of the great outdoors indoors, and mainly into his shower." She shoved him off and looked at the long blonde-brown strands, now very much more brown than blonde. "I'm going to need a gallon of conditioner after this is over..." Buffy bemoaned.

Spike stood up, fell on his weak knee, and leaned against a tree. "Just when I think I can stand you..." He straightened the bruised joint and began to stagger away.

"What? Wait, what?" Buffy got off the ground, and trotted after him.

"You and your hair and your conditioner." He huffed.

"This from the guy who paints his nails?"

"Paint 'em black, part of the look." He spat and increased the pace.

"You make no sense. Ever." Buffy slammed into the yard, and ran to keep up with him now.

"No, _you_ don't. You don't understand yourself, so you make it bloody hard for anyone else to do it."

Buffy looked genuinely puzzled, head doing a miniature shake, almost a twitch. "You lost me."

He let out a deep lung emptying groan. "You pull back when you fight, an' I don't mean kicks and punches. You let the normal girl come out, just at the wrong moment, every time. You're gonna get killed one day if you keep doin' that."

"I_ am _a normal girl. Twenty four-seven, Spike. It's just my life that's screwed up. And why do you care anyway, you're just here for a job, you're not my 'life coach'."

_Why _do_ I care? Dunno. Want her to die. Someday. _

_Yeah, but not 'cause she makes a mistake._

_ What are you talking about? That's the only way they die, they make one mistake. They realize they don't want to live like this anymore..._

"Hello?" Buffy crossed her arms and waited.

"You were the only good one to fight. I thought you realized what you had." Spike gave her a quirked smile. "Thought you realized it after that Halloween from hell, when you turned into just another helpless human. Almost had you then, my scared little lamb." His voice went into a lower register, almost lulling.

"Oh-kay." Buffy gave him a worried frown. "If you call me Clarice, we're so done with this show."

He refused to engage. "Be a normal girl. But don't turn off the Slayer part. Not when you fight. You get afraid of it and then-"

"Whoa. It's not like it's some switch, I know it's there."

"I don't think you do." Spike shook his head. He vamped. "See my game face? You hardly ever let yours show."

"And thank God for that. I look ugly in fangs." She smiled sarcastically.

It put him off his stride for a minute. Picturing her. _She'd look amazing in fangs... _But she wouldn't be the Slayer and he only liked originals anyway, no 'reinterpretations'. That thought nagged him, rang a little bell, though he ignored it for the moment.

"Stupid. Bein' good at the game only takes you so far. Have to know what you're playin' with."

Spike went back out to the porch to smoke, leaving her muddy and weirded out in the kitchen.

* * *

_Day Nine..._

"I know you hate me, and you're crazy, but you can speak to me."

"Nothin' to say." _If I don't talk to her, don't have to deal with her except in my "official capacity"._

"You wanna go work off some tension?"

He almost dropped his beer. _See, if she wasn't around me, if I wasn't payin' so much attention to her, I wouldn't "hear" things she never said._ "No."

"Well... I'm gonna go for a run. Just in the woods, so I'll be fine."

"Fine."

Buffy expected the "I am your bodyguard" speech, and it didn't happen. She almost missed it. _Almost._ "See ya."

"Bye."

* * *

Ten minutes went by before he couldn't take it anymore. "Why do I do these things?" He dragged himself from the chair and flew out the back door, inhaled, and followed her scent.

* * *

She just needed to run. Hated running. Well, hated running away.

_Aren't you running away now? From Spike and his vampire with the "riddle in the middle" attitude? _

_ Of course not. I'm not running, I'm... I'm stress relieving. _

Fine, she needed to work off the tension, the massive stress of being in a house, being undercover, and now not talking to the only other person she was allowed to have personal contact with. "What the hell is his problem anyway? Besides the obvious evilness." She muttered and put on speed.

She heard him, but not until he cut in front of her, swung around a tree, crashed into her.

This wasn't playful. This wasn't bantering. This was down, on the ground again, and she didn't think twice about her hair. She was slammed down, and crushed under. "Not funny." She hissed.

"Not laughing." He growled.

"Spike... stop." A little current of fear ran through her stomach.

"No." _What am I doing? _She made him so angry, so confused._ I could get to like her, already sorta respect her, or what she is at least._ It made him angry that he was beginning to feel a grudging acceptance of her. He shouldn't. And yet he was furious with her for not taking it all the way, unlocking that almost demonic supernatural power he wanted to taste, the thing that always drew him to slayers._ She's the best, but she's not all she could be._ It drove him mad, that sitting on the line of knowing she was everything he wanted in adversary- and so much of what he wanted in a friend. He slammed his fingers down to her bones, and held her there, waiting for it to happen.

Fear left her, anger took over. "We- had- a deal!" She threw him off, rose over him. This was a different type of dark they were grappling in, no city lights lending the sky a break from the pure blue-blackness of the forest.

He didn't answer, just waited until he could hear it, feel it...

"You need to move, _now_. Or so help me, this turns into a solo act." Buffy growled.

He heard it. The double time. Felt the steely set to the muscles under his hands. "I said I had your back." He whispered.

"Looks like you lied." She tried to shake him off completely.

"Not about that." Spike wrapped his hand under her chin, but not to choke her. "Slayers have game faces, only they stay inside. Vamps' stay outside." All the others lost that power when he was finally close to them. Fear, doubt, craving that ticket to leave...Not this one. A real Slayer. Never stops, even though she keeps trying to pull away.

_Someone like me._

"Don't you dare try to tell me I'm like a vampire."

_Reads my mind._"My demon is outside- whatever you've got- is inside."

She struggled once, then dug her nails into his hand as it moved lower, onto her jugular.

"Shh shhshh." He held up a warning hand. "Feel that? You beat double time. Your muscles- those are barely human now..."

Buffy stopped her reflexive struggle to push his hand away and worm her fingers underneath. _Oh my God... like a machine gun._ Her pulse was pounding like a runaway horse's hooves. She'd always known she had the adrenaline, always known she'd gotten faster and stronger, but she never really paid attention to it. She killed the bad guy and calmed down. She tried that now. "Whoa. Wow. It's... too much chocolate. Big sugar high." Deep breathing, closing her eyes, thinking happy thoughts. Make it stop.

"No, no don't let it go." He urged, finger pressing into her skin again, making her eyes jump open, defenses rise again. "They train you to control it. They want you to be able to turn it off and on."

"That's good- human, remember? I need to be able to control it."

"Ah, but they train you to give that control to someone else. Stop on a dime, never let _it_ control_ you_."

"There's always a line that you shouldn't cross." _Get your hands off my neck, stop whispering like that. _

"Fair enough."

"Otherwise," she swallowed, and she could feel his thumb rise and sink with the soft cartilage in her throat, "you turn into a monster, who does whatever they want... stupid things... wrong things..."

"What's wrong with wrong things?" Whisper dropped again, until it was softer than noise, turned into audible smoke, wrapping around her ear.

"By definition, wrong." Buffy smiled faintly, and he laughed, let his hand sink past her shoulders, leaving her body slowly. Which was oddly disappointing.

"You know why all the Slayers die so quick? It's workin' alone, it's 'cause they fight the big bads, it's cause there's always someone with more luck then you have, but," his blue eyes were black in the darkness, yet they still seemed to have a speck of shine in them, something she could follow down a shadowy road, "it's also 'cause they always try to find the power and stop it, afraid it'll take them over, turn them into that 'monster' they think is in there."

"Not a monster." She hissed, but uncertainly.

"That's right. But it does the same thing. Don't try to muzzle it. Try to fight _with _it."

"I do that. I do that every battle."

"I know. That's why I like you." _What the hell am I on about? _ He kept murmuring. "But as soon as you can, you run from it, like it's the worst part of yourself. The freak, the rotten little secret, but it's just another face you have." He shifted, vamped and back. "Let it move with you, and it won't control you, you won't control it. Soon you'd just be one perfect package. Stop fightin' what's in your head an' you'll outlast any fight in the world, Slayer."

"Mmhmm." She made a high, strangled noise of agreement in the back of her throat.

"You don't believe me?" His voice lost the softness, and he scooted back.

"I do. I just don't get everything you say. But I feel like you know what you're talking about." _Because the more I get to know him, he doesn't seem to have a human part or a demon part, or a cover or a secret. He just seems like himself. And God I would love to just be _myself_ and not have to worry about hiding or controlling or secrets..._

"Let me help you train with it, not against it?" He offered. _Let me see the real deal, all of that power, watch you become it, not overcome it. Always wanted that. 'Specially for this one, she already had everything else right._

"Why would you do that? When this is over, we're still enemies."

He licked his lips, and thought fast- and told part of the safe part. "'Cause if I fail- not that I will, you'll still win, you'll still be alive. An' as long as I get back you alive, I still get Menfra's Eye. You're my back up- and I'm yours."

_For Drusilla. Of course it was for Drusilla. You knew that. Don't be dumb. What were you thinking? _She honestly didn't know, only that it was a new feeling, and it overloaded her adrenaline system. She shook it off._ Besides, the whole "double knotted protection"? I can so use that._ "Deal."

He smiled ruefully and stood. "Got you all muddy again."

"No kidding."

"C'mon. Scrub up."

"Nah." She swiped his ankles out from under him, hard, making him let out a single hoarse shout of shock. "I don't think I'm ready to 'turn it off' yet."

He bounced back up with an appreciative chuckle, and managed to edit out the phrase about how he preferred her turned on.

* * *

_Day Ten..._

"You didn't take the Larkins their plate back yet!" Buffy admonished, finding it still sitting on the counter.

"Good mornin' to you too." He didn't know when it had happened, but the nocturnal vampire and the sun-preferring human who didn't have to patrol had merged themselves into a noon to wee hours sort of deal. Maybe it was just loneliness. Or boredom. Or the fact that between dusk and midnight they could go twelve rounds and never slow down. He'd missed that without Dru. Buffy'd never had it before.

"Seriously, I thought you did that on the way to the store?"

"You were covered up on the floorboards, I thought it was wiser not to stop. Take it up tonight, alright, Bossy Boots?"

"Being a good neighbor slash houseguest slash fugitive means you return the popover plates!" Buffy explained in exasperation. Then paused. "Man, I say weird stuff these days."

"Have you ever not?"

"Not since I caught the Slaying-bug." She crashed into the kitchen chair across from him, and he automatically passed her the box of cereal, which she delved into.

"Is that all you eat?" Spike demanded, suddenly realizing that in ten days he hadn't seen her turn on the stove or eat anything remotely resembling a hot meal.

"No... I eat peanut butter and jellys too." She got the milk from the fridge. "The occasional microwavable meal."

"That's real healthy." He muttered.

"Shut up, Spike. What are you, my mother?"

* * *

"Mrs. Summers?"

"Yes?" Joyce cautiously opened her door, and then stepped outside it, onto the front porch.

"I'm Mr. MacAndrews from the Council. I've come to ask you a few questions concerning your daughter. May I come in?"

"No, you may not come in." Joyce was steely. "You- you and your precious 'Council' got her killed."

MacAndrews did his best endearing yet placating smile. "I quite understand your feelings, Madam."

"Then you can get off my porch."

"May I at least ask just one, small question?" He practically fluttered his lashes, holding his bowler hat with both hands in supplication.

She was prepared that they'd come to see her. She was not prepared in her reactions. She and Rupert managed to discuss it briefly, but they kept their visits short, aware that they might be being observed. His advice suddenly left her, and she nodded mutely.

"Has your daughter tried to contact you?"

"My...Don't you know?"Joyce asked, an expression of heartbroken confusion on her face.

"Are you aware that she may still be alive?"

Forget rehearsals. Sometimes maternal instinct just works better.

MacAndrews backed away, but sadly, he was unprepared for someone like Joyce Summers. She took two quick, marching steps and flung her arm back and then across MacAndrew's stunned face, leaving a bright red handprint across his cheek.

"How dare you? Leave right now, you insensitive-" Joyce backed him down a step, "horrible," step, "lying little rat!" He fell onto the sidewalk, landing with a scattering of Council issued briefcase and haberdashery. "Ever come near this home again and I'll do more than slap your face." With a furious sob, she slammed the door so hard the panes rattled.

* * *

MacAndrews reported in record time. "No, Sir. I feel I can safely say the mother is completely unaware." He rubbed his sore cheek. "The mere suggestion sent her into paroxysms of grief and rage. Her emotion was genuine."

"Hmm. We need to speak to her friends then. Maybe this is some teenage nonsense she hatched up with her foolish school mates, not something she would have informed her Watcher or mother of..."

MacAndrews hesitated. "Of course. I'll head over there next."

"No... wait." Travers just had an unpleasant thought. If they were genuinely unaware, or even if they were, alerting them to the suspicions of the Council might alarm her, cause her to flee. Hamper their investigation. He had to make it look as if they were doing everything to find her- but in actuality allow legitimate forces to do very little. An assassination is best performed without an audience after all, and the fewer who knew the possibilities, the fewer who would question the outcome. "Don't engage them. Merely watch them. We've traced every number on all phones registered to the Summers, Giles, Harris, and Rosenberg residences. No phone calls were suspicious. We've looked at accounts registered to those four. Nothing. There's been no contact, nothing unusual, no vehicle rentals, property rentals, large deposits, withdrawals." His shaggy gray brows drew together angrily. "She's probably with that vampire..."

"You're probably right, Sir."

And he was. Except for the small matter of _which _vampire.

* * *

"You missed stuff while you were doing the vampire thing." Buffy passed him the dictionary.

Spike put down his mug and frowned at the screen. "What am I looking up?"

"Book bag. I mean I think that's what all the fuss is about."

"Pronounce it?"

"M-sound. Moe-cheela."

"Book bag... book bag...Mochila... Yep, it's in the book bag! Brilliant! Usin' the kid to pass the counterfeit."

"I told you, it's not counterfeit, it's a message to the sister! You missed that part when you were heating up your blood."

"Shh! Wait 'til the commercial."

The ten o'clock movie on the Spanish channel had become a ritual, just like the fighting, and the adjusting their schedules to overlap. Just like keeping "the list" and a pen in the middle of the coffee table at all times, and actually adding to it, whether it was stupid crap like "Hates when nail polish gets clumpy" or big stuff, like "ridiculously homesick."

"The husband of Maria's sister-"

"Rodrigo?"

"Stefan."

"Then who's Rodrigo?"

"The singing guy that the sister had the fling with."

"Right. So what's the message?"

"Like I know that!" She waved the now well-thumbed dictionary at him. "All I know was the mom was crying and falling over the kitchen chairs to give it to the kid. It's folded up in the front pocket."

"I bet the father's dying."

"No, I think Maria's pregnant."

"Ooh, turn it up, turn it up, it's back on..."

* * *

_Midnight..._

"That was awesome. I didn't understand anything they said for the last fifteen minutes, but that was awesome." Buffy sat back with a sniffle and a broad smile.

"Don't need to understand stuff like that. Love transcends language." Spike also sighed deeply, black tipped hands resting relaxedly over his chest as he sprawled. "Love transcends anything."

Buffy's smile disappeared slowly. "Almost."

Spike tranquil position also faded. "S'posed to."

_Why does he always do this to me? One little phrase and one of the best incomprehensible happy endings I've ever seen is ruined._

_ Such a downer, these goody-goody types. _

"Yeah well, I guess it doesn't. Or I wouldn't be here, with you. And you wouldn't be here, with me."_ Love screwed us both._

"Touché." He shifted. "Well, there's things to overcome first, sometimes." He said defensively. Buffy shrugged. He continued. "Like a fragmented mind. That's where the Eye comes in."

Buffy got annoyed. Not at him in reality, but at herself and her lover. _Ex-_lover. _Spike has a plan. Spike has flaws. Drusilla has flaws. Impossibilities to deal with- like she's a cheating psychopath and he's an obsessed boy Blondie clone. What do I have? "I'm going to leave you because it's easier. I won't even do a little two week overtime to save your life, because it's easier not to_._"_ "So this mental superglue suddenly makes her love you again? C'mon Spike. She loved you like crazy- ha. Like crazy. She loved you all those years and years and years, and you never minded the nutty filling before."

_Because there was never _you_ before. Because I never went behind her back, always just put up with her going behind_ mine_. Funny, all the wicked little games we loved to play, the pain we liked to share- there was only one she could dish out but not take. _"There's always a breaking point." He said vaguely.

"Yeah, but so what? If she was so broken and she loved you anyway, why do you-"

"She didn't." He interrupted, quietly, but not calmly. Simple heat.

"Huh?" Buffy blinked, halted and thrown off her stride.

"I said 'She didn't'." _Why can I lie to myself for decades, but she makes me tell the truth in a week? Must be that goodness radiatin' from her. Maybe I could wear some sort of vest... _

"But you two-"

"Oh, she loved me. I loved her. But she doesn't love like you and I can. No. See... she'd never been in love before they got to her." He gave a sad, ironic smile as he turned his head to look at her. "It wasn't in her package. She knew love. She had two sisters she loved. Mummy, daddy, uncle, aunties, cousins... Loved 'em. Until Angelus killed 'em in all sorts of horrible ways and made her watch." Buffy made a sick gagging sound, which he took perverse pleasure in and kept going. "But she never knew how to be _in_ love. She just didn't- she didn't understand how it works."

Buffy was sobered. "You think that's true?"

_Who knows? We tell ourselves all sorts of things. _"I hope."

Quiet. Well, no one else to talk to... Buffy bit her nail and then stammered out."H-how's it supposed to work? In your opinion?"

"It's not just my opinion, Slayer, it's how it_ is._ You just never want anyone else, and you never give up. No matter how odd it seems, how bad it hurts... love doesn't quit."

"No one makes it leave... No one cares if it's a good idea..." She whispered to herself.

"Yeah, Slayer. Like that." He swallowed. "If it makes you feel any better- I don't think yours was in love before either. Not properly."

She shook her head spasmodically. "It doesn't make me feel any better, Spike. Because he was in love for the first time with _me._ He still left." He almost gave her a pitying look and she hated that, so she laughed hoarsely and sat up. "I don't have any magic doohickey to bring him back, or make him suddenly fall in love with me again. He still loves me. He still doesn't want to be with me."

"I'm_ not _makin' her fall in love!" Spike growled angrily. "It's not like that! I'm just- just helpin' her see it's possible."

"Oh, please, Spike, this whole thing is about getting what you want, getting your 'Dru'."

_Of course it is. Or it _was_. _Blinding flash, right at the worst moment, in front of her. "Slayer... I'm in love with her. I want her back more than anything in the world. But even if she doesn't want me, I'd still do this to her. Because she deserves it. One day, she deserves to have peace inside."

Buffy nodded, sniffed, and nodded again. Then burst into tears.

Spike scrambled back. "Don't do that! Don't _do_ that, no cryin'!"

"It's beautiful! You just topped Maria and Stefan's reunion!"

"Oh some big compliment." He kept his distance.

"You can come back, I'm not going to blow my nose on you." Buffy steadied herself. "That's just- I get that. I mean, I would do the same thing. Give him a chance, if I could."

"Good for you." He locked his jaw tightly. "But I'm not rollin' over on this, Slayer. She'll love me. I just have to show her how." His eyes narrowed in determination. "I know she will."

"I'm sure she will." She believed it. _How could you not love someone like that? Who never gave up on you and would do anything for you and ... all sorts of despicable things that made him a perfect vampire date._ "You'll make her really happy. And less psychotic."

He pondered that. _Happy? Well, yes. Not so scared, not so lost. Had to be happier. But for him, he would kill to just soothe that tortured mind._"At peace. Some peace."

"Oh, screw peace, give me happiness any day." She surprised them with her bitter appraisal. "Peace would be great. I'd like peace. But you can have peace and be alone, be miserable." Buffy went on, more to herself than him, ignoring his pensive look. "Nice if you can actually find peace_ with_ someone, not have to lock yourself away, run from the only person who's ever loved you."

_At peace doesn't always mean happy. Angel's the poster boy for peace and misery. He could outdo an alcoholic Frenchman living through a long winter with no booze._

He left the couch, ostensibly to wash out his mug, in reality to get away from her and the deep thoughts, which were still ongoing. "He thinks I want normal, and he's right, but give me chaos and crap and having someone with me, someone to be happy with over normal. That's what I'd like."

_We might be similar but our situations, nothin' alike. She has to stop comparing us on this subject. _"Yeah well, it's different when they leave you when they're sane, Slayer. Means they have some reason, something they won't budge on that makes sense to them." In the living room, he knew her face probably had a stunned, hurt look on it, 'cause those words lacked any sympathy. "Part of Dru's problem, she doesn't get why leavin' someone on a whim is wrong, it's all some little game to her."

"Maybe." Buffy pushed her hurt down. _See what you get for getting all cozy with him? Relax, open up- he'll stick the knife in. He has my back, he's not going to have my front, where the soft underbelly part is._

She sauntered towards the kitchen, but didn't go in, instead leaned against the wall and admired a tribal pictograph on a wooden board, casually tracing a finger over the symbols. "Maybe it's all a game- or it always used to be. But maybe this time there was a 'reason she won't budge on' or something that 'made sense' to her. Going behind her back, trying to kill Angelus, practically kidnapping her during that battle... When she wakes up, you're miles away and her boyfriend slash daddy- so sick right there- is dead." Running water stopped. She dared a peek into the kitchen and saw him standing stiff armed over the sink, using it for support as his shoulders bowed and flexed.

_Maybe there is something that sticks. Not so much the betrayal, but who I betrayed her with. Not a game this time, but I won't admit it. Love doesn't admit defeat. _He brazened it out with a careless shrug."Doesn't matter. When I have the Eye, an' the sanity kicks back in, she'll understand. She'll understand I did what I had to, to save her life." He went back to washing the stack of mugs he'd used that day.

She leaned on the threshold and watched him. _He really never quits. He might change his plan sometimes, but only if there's something better, but his goal is always the same. Do anything for the woman you love, at any cost to yourself._

_ Angel's like that. Sure he is. He's torturing himself, leaving the one person he loves, and letting me have a 'normal life'._

_ This is anything but normal. And soon this might not even be life. Then there's no love, either. Just him kicking himself for new reasons._ "Sometimes men are just jerks!"

Spike stared after her retreating form as it stomped off, heard her feet thudding angrily on each stair on the way up to her room. "What'd I do?"

* * *

_Day Eleven..._

"I'm finally returning your call, old man, sorry for the long delay. Took Ginny to Brighton for a few days and we only just got back. I just heard." Robson's voice changed from the brisk ebullient tone from something deeply saddened. "I'm sorry, Rupert. I thought she was the one who'd last forever."

_She is. Or at least longer than any other, if I have anything to say about it. _"Thank you." Giles murmured. "I had something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Your message said. What is it?"

"It's a- personal problem. Could I call you back in a few minutes?"

"Of course, just got in from headquarters, I'll be home all evening."

Giles hung up, picked up a plate of homemade cookies (from Willow, who tended to bake when guilt-ridden or grief stricken) and walked quickly to his neighbor a few flats over eyes discreetly monitoring the area. No one watching. None he could see, but that didn't mean they weren't, or weren't listening. Hence this little ruse. "Good day, Mrs. Thompson."

"Mr. Giles! Come in, come in." She was an older lady and a bit senile, but always very kind and helpfully forgetful.

"Thank you. I've got a favor to ask of you." He presented the cookies.

"Delicious looking. But I should bring_ you_ cookies. I heard on the news your school blew up?"

"Sadly, yes."

"And some of the students... tragic. Tragic. Didn't happen in my day."

"No, I'm sure not."

"We had prayer in school."

"Quite."

"Keeps the devils away."

Giles looked at her, and wondered. Figurative puritanical speech- or someone who knew that the town was really a Hellmouth? "Exactly. Mrs. Thompson, my phone doesn't seem to be working. I need to place an overseas call, and I'd be happy to pay for it."

"Cookies are payment enough!" Mrs. Thompson bit into one. "Tea?"

"Perhaps another time. I'm afraid there's so much to do after the- uh- well there's just so much to do."

"There's a phone down the hall in Mr. Pretty's room. I don't keep it out here, interferes with the television."

"Mr. Pretty?" Giles blinked.

"He's from the Beautiful Boy line, out of Pretty Sweet and Even."

The blinking was on the verge of astigmatism. "Pardon?"

"My cat! Purebred Persian, Mr. Pretty."

"Ah, of course."

"Got his pedigree and all his trophies in there."

"How lovely. I'll be sure to take some time and look around while I'm making my call."

"Just keep it down. Knitting With Knute is on in a few minutes." Mrs. Thompson waved him away and returned to the television.

_The things I'll do for that girl. Endear myself to mad old grannies, lie to the head of the Council, work with Wesley, make deals with Spike. I deserve a raise and I'm not even getting a salary anymore._ He murmured the neat little incantation that made any unwanted listeners hear only jumbled sounds, and picked up the phone and dialed.

"Giles?"

"Hello, sorry about the delay, Robson." _How to begin, how to begin?_ " Erm. How's Ginny?"

"She's good. Bit harried at work."

"Is she? Why is that ?" Giles' ears pricked up.

"We lost eight men in one night a few weeks ago. She's had to pay out a lot of the death benefits without letting Inland Revenue get wind of it, as always. But eight at once..."

"What happened?"

"No one knows. No announcement was made. Looks like vampires for some of them, but the others- awful. Just awful. And of course Ginny has to deal with all the paperwork, the bribes to the police and the hospital, the funeral expenses..."

"Tragic."_ I know just who did it. Just who sent them to risk their lives, lose them, all for one crackpot vendetta._ _Travers always underestimates others, and overestimates his own power. Such a flawed combination._ "Any other unusual issues? Field assignments? Hrm- any irregular items billed?" He asked as innocently as possible.

"What is this about? Are you trying to find out if I can convince her to slip your pay back into the ledger?"

"No! Heavens, no, nothing-"

Robson cut him off with a sigh. "Because I already tried. We couldn't. We know you're still her Watcher. You should be paid like it. Just because Travers never got the chance to train an active Slayer... he didn't understand, old chap."

Giles felt confidence surge within him. "Robbie, I need to be able to trust someone." He blurted, worry and fear escaping in a rush.

Robson responded with the same urgency, knowing his friend had rarely needed a confidant, if ever, before. "Of course! What is it? What's happened?"

He sidestepped his questions for the moment."Can you have Ginny keep looking for and flagging anything unusual in the expenses? Particularly Travers' personal requests for funds?"

"Easily managed, but-"

"Could you come be with me? In my hour of need, as it were? One 'bereaved' ex-Watcher in need of an old friend?"

Robson caught the emphasis, the faintly insincere tone on the word "bereaved". "Yes. Yes... I could get away for a few days." He hesitated and added, "Are you taking this matter rather harder than expected? For some reason?"

_Bless his brilliant little bald spot._ "Something is very, very upsetting to me."

"Upsetting enough that I should ask if Aberswyth wants to tag along? You remember old Abby, don't you? He got passed over for a promotion every year since he said Slayers needed a stipend? Travers said granting them financial independence would lead to anarchy?"

"I've missed you, Robbie." Giles laughed, some of the stress abruptly vanishing. "Scotch and sodas on me, for you, for Abby, for anyone you know- who we can trust. Who feels like we do."

"But not too many?"

"No, of course not. Nothing excessive."

"I'll be there by tea tomorrow, and you'd better lay on something good. No American rubbish."

"Not a drop, I swear." He chuckled.

"Cheery bye then. Wait-Rupert!" Robson, ceased his hanging up with a sudden twinge of curiosity. "What _is_ all this?"

"I'll tell you when I see you. I promise." Rupert hung up, sighed deeply, inhaled a passing tuft of long white fur, and sneezed himself graciously from his neighbor's home.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	10. Chapter 10

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of show's dialogue will be used._

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Spike is the BIG BAD, Alexiarrose, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Sirius120, ShyL, Alottalove, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, micmoc, seapea, rororogers, Haleycc, Sushibar, jackiemack916,Touch the Dark, ValidescopeWest, Mike13z50, Rachel, Cavementftw, Draconi9, diebrichen, Lithium Reaper, Blade Redwind and Hulettwyo._

_I have the best reviewers EVER! I'm so very grateful for all of your support._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part X**

_Day Eleven..._

_It feels wrong now. If we don't talk. Get so close- then pull back with such a snap..._ So he made a peace offering, even though he had no idea what exactly made her stomp off on him last night. He dropped the box with a thud on the table, making her spoon rattle in the bowl. "Here."

"What's this?" Buffy stood up warily and began pulling open the cardboard box.

"I've been holdin' out on you. This Geoff guy has a whole closet full of useless junk." He confessed.

"Useless, ha!" Buffy exclaimed in delight. "This is the best stuff I've seen in days!" She lifted out stacks of old comics. "Xander would love these."

"He's got vinyl records up there- not that symphonic crap he keeps in the living room, but proper stuff, The Doors, The Beatles, Fleetwood Mac-" Spike dug his hands in beside hers and pulled out a signed cricket ball and an Oxford rowing shirt.

"I love Fleetwood Mac." Buffy lifted out a chess set and a dilapidated box of Snakes and Ladders. "You do?"

"No!" Spike hastily denied. She gave him a disbelieving look. "Fine, I crashed a couple concerts of hers when I lived in New York. Ate some scalpers, got decent seats. Dru liked her dresses. Flowy sleeves." He looked at a few video tapes and cassettes, and left them in the box.

"My mom likes her dresses too." Buffy prodded away a stack of Christmas cards. "I have a strange desire to go through Giles' closet now." She hastily took her hands from the box. "I'm a little worried about what I might find though."

"I wouldn't be shocked by anything he had." Spike scowled. As far as he was concerned, the Watcher didn't play fair.

"I know. Scary." Buffy looked at the games. Snakes and Ladders seemed to be missing pieces. She began putting both back in the box.

"Wait, wait." Spike prevented her from putting the chessboard away. "El Mundo Secreto isn't on for another couple hours. Wanna play? Too sunny to train."

Her stomach twisted with a sudden combination of fear, aggression, and weird urges she was unfamiliar with. That power he told her she could control, could blend, could stop being afraid of- she was starting to enjoy it. Enjoying not pulling back. "Yeah...Um. Training later?"

"Best part of the whole bloody day." They grinned as one, then dropped their eyes.

"Cool. But I can't play chess."

"What? It's the ancient game of strategy, was sure Rupes would've had you playin' whenever you could."

"He tried. I escaped out a window and then I ran into this slimy situation and I brought him a severed demon head to identify. It was a coincidence, but I think he thought it might be connected."

Spike chuckled. "I bet you didn't correct him on that, did you?"

"Never came up." She smiled cheekily. She tried to pry the board from his hands. "Spike! If Giles, who I love like my own dad, can't get me to play- why should I play with _you_?"

"Because if you do- we can procrastinate for a few more hours before we go try to do the laundry."

Buffy considered. She was starting to look a little gross, even for righteous-on-the-run battle woman. She couldn't reuse most of her clothing supply at this point since most of the clothes were covered in mud, so laundry_ had _to be done. She didn't like doing laundry. She especially didn't like doing laundry in strange washing machines, machines that she would probably break with the sheer amount of mud she wanted removed.

Chess won, hands down.

"I call white." Buffy put the cardboard box on the floor and pushed her cereal bowl over.

"Figures. Black suits me better anyway. An' white always makes the first move." His lips curled in unintentional seduction as he finished the sentence.

"Maybe I'd better be black then." _I flirted. Was that a flirting? Shit. _

"No go, Slayer." He dumped the pieces.

"You play?"

"If you ever want to keep track of your enemies' moves, and all of your own- you should practice. Liked to use minions myself, but chess'll do, call it research."

Buffy snorted. "I can't imagine you playing chess. With the punk thing." She stared at the jet black nails and the gelled spiked hair rising from a hard pale forehead. "You'd have made the kids in our school's chess club wet themselves."

He laughed and then shook his head. "I learned to play when I was a human. There wasn't telly in my day, an' we had to have somethin' to do. So I learned to play. You think everything changes when you turn?" He quickly began setting up pieces, slim nimble fingers tipping black pawns onto squares.

Buffy was a fast learner. Her own tan fingers mimicked his actions without hesitation. "Uh. Yeah. That's what they say in Slaying 101. They look like people- but it's just some demon in your friend's face."

"True sometimes. Not all the time. Rooks on the corner squares."

"Rooks? Castle guys?"

"Please tell me you know the names of the pieces."

"Yes! Some. There's king, queen, pawn, rook-"

"I just taught you that."

"Rocking horse and... check mate?"

"I gotta go do my delicates after all." Spike rose hurriedly.

"Sit down or I'll pour your blood down the sink and you'll have to go 'hunting' again."

Spike sat. "They'll wait."

* * *

_An hour later..._

"You're killing all my little pawny people!"

"They're expendable!"

"Tell that to their families!"

"They're wood!"

"Well...die Black Bishop!" Buffy scooted her knight to jump over top of him."King me!"

"You can't do that, they move in an L-shape, I've told you a million times! This _hour_."

"Not this horse! _This _horse has little pawn friends on the front lines. He's bustin' some moves."

"You can't just break the rules in the game." Spike wrestled his bishop from her fingers.

"Why not?" She challenged.

_Why not?_ Seemed like a challenge to more than just a simple game. They broke rules all the time. Especially together. _Only a game. _"That's not the reason."

"Huh?"

"It's not the pawns. It's the rook."

"The castle?"

"They've been in on this together since the beginning." Spike slid his rook diagonally across the board to stand with her knight.

"You can't move like that." She gave him a small crooked smile.

"Can if we're gonna take out the Queens."

"Why not the kings?"

"Are you kiddin' me? Slaves to the women, they're chained to them- can only move one square at a time."

Buffy stared at the board, then leaned forward and hissed, "You get the prisoners out of both camps, then we form up in a double flank?"

"No, prison break, tunnel up, come around behind the board, take the white queen."

"What about the black queen?"

"Negotiate."

"No negotiations."

"It works."

"My way works better and it isn't evil and hostage-y."

"Your body count is higher."

"Your strategy is flawed."

"What's it matter?" He shoved half his captured pieces back around the board into her hands. "If it doesn't work my way- we'll try yours. Nice thing about chess. You can always try different moves."

She caught the pieces as he shoved them in, fingertips lightly scuffing her palm. _Just a game. Silly little board game with silly little pieces and us making silly little battle plans because we're cooped up and used to leading the troops. Just a different game... _"Yeah... always different."

* * *

_An hour later..._

"This is completely different than my mom's washer. This was obviously made shortly after the invention of electricity." Buffy dropped her overflowing armloads of laundry to the floor in the small laundry area, besides a few pieces of black, gray, and red that made up all of Spike's wardrobe.

"It was made in the sixties. It's easy to use." Spike scoffed.

Buffy turned and almost yelped. Literally _all _of his wardrobe was on the floor. "Why are you in a bathrobe? Is that your bathrobe? That's not your bathrobe!"

"It's called a smoking jacket. Wanted to do a full load, don't pack much. Unlike certain people."

"Hey! I packed a week's worth of clothes, plus what I had on my back, that's not a lot when you were raised in a mall!"

"You said it, I didn't. _This_ time." Spike pushed past her. Chess was over. Chess ended with three absurdist games involving corrupt church officials (bishops), a peasant uprising (pawns), and a knight-queen love affair. It ended with high fives. _High. Fives. _He wanted to wash his hands, he didn't do that shit. It ended with him being reminded of Drusilla, who loved to play games, who would get involved in whimsical stories made up in her own little pickled brains, but instead of it devolving into hysteria or complete shaking, slavering madness, this kept to some sort of format.

Two exiled generals playing with scale maps made of checkered wood and toy soldiers without faces. Insane? No. Crazy with boredom? Yes.

All too strange. The fact that he thoroughly- _almost_ thoroughly- had enjoyed being with her, more than he hated being with her. Made him hurry away like mad to do something else. He threw his last remaining items down on the floor, finally dimly aware of her ranting in the background.

"- house, not his clothes! You can be evil without wearing someone's stuff! He doesn't want to wear a bathrobe with dead people germs on it! Take it off! Right now!"

Oooh, he could make her squirm. "You really think it's that big a deal?"

Duh!" Buffy clasped her hand to her head in exasperation.

"Okay then." He slowly began unknotting it, letting it fall open at the chest.

Buffy made a variety of strangled, gasping, yelling sounds that had no meaning, until finally she screeched, "Stop that!"

"What? This?" He arched one eye brow, and jutted his jaw in his best " shirtless Mick Jagger mugging for the camera" posturing.

"Keep that on, are you mental?"

"You told me to take it off."

"I didn't- mean that." She amended nervously, cold tingles running through her stomach and eyes avoiding any and all of him.

"Make up your mind then." He slowly put it back up, not that it had ever drifted below mid torso, and tied it tight. "You know- you should get out of those clothes."

"_What_?" The screech made his sensitive ears ring.

"You've got mud on the knees and chocolate on one sleeve."

"It's my last outfit, and it's the one that smells least like blown up mayor and it's the least covered in mud. Or nail polish. Or chocolate." She examined her sleeve.

"I bet he has somethin' that'd keep you decent. Little twig like you would fit fine in one of his shirts."

"I'm not a twig!" Buffy puffed up her shoulders.

"Nope, you're a little hellcat, with mud on her clothes, who'd easily fit in a man's shirt. Now go change, I'll sort the washer.

"Oh, fine..." Buffy stomped out. She wasn't sure if a hellcat was an insult or a compliment but it sounded seriously better than "twig".

* * *

She took a long time- because yeah, their host was pretty big in the shoulders and broad in the chest, a nice tallish guy, but nothing was hardly what she'd call "decent". "Spike! I'm throwing my stuff down the stairs. I'll-" she kicked her stuff down without coming out of the doorway, "be down as soon as I find something to wear." She was standing in a man's pajama top and holding it tight as she looked frantically at the open closet.

Spike, standing in the laundry area, called back quickly, "Take your time! Don't worry about a thing!"

Which would have made her worry profusely, had she not already been desperately worried about the fact that nothing came down to miniskirt length without also coming down in the middle enough to put whole new levels of V in V-neck. "This man didn't own a single tee shirt!" She shouted.

"Yeah... and he really needs to get to an appliance store." Spike frowned at the floor- rapidly filling with suds.

On two different floors, both people froze.

_Does that mean there's scantily clad Slayer upstairs?_

_ Why does he need appliances?_

_ Shit. She's gonna kill me, I told her I knew how to use the washer. Of course I don't, why would I? I just steal new clothes when I need 'em._

_ Dammit. I told him I'm pretty much trapped up here and he has all my clothes. That shouldn't weird me out- but for some reason- really, really does._

"Stay up there!"

"I'm not coming down!"

_Wow. There must be something really worth seeing._

Two people froze again, and managed to belt out in perfect unison,

"Be right there!"

* * *

They met in the foyer, the half way point between the laundry room and the upstairs. Buffy wore boxer shorts that were being held up with a belt cinched so far shut that it had to be knotted closed, and a towel wrapped tightly across her torso, topped off with a buttoned up pajama top.

Spike was still in his "smoking jacket", appropriately enough, smoking, with a trail of wet soapy footprints trailing across the hardwood floor.

"What the _hell _are you wearing?" He drew up short, staring at her odd getup.

"Why are there wet footprints?" Buffy stared past him, at the glossily polished floors. "Are those water stains? Is that like not using a coaster on finished tables?"

"Are those boxers? I know you've got balls but-"

"Are we going to have use mayonnaise to get those out? Or is it lemon juice?" Buffy pushed past him, palms to her brow, trying to remember what her mother used to yell at her. She was still muttering as she made her way to the washer.

"Be careful, it's-"

Buffy splashed into ankle deep water as soon as she opened the door.

"Wet." Spike finished. _She never listens to me. Practically never._

"Oh. My. God." She turned slowly, fire in her eyes replacing bewildered panic. "You flooded his laundry room."

"More like soaped it up. But you can't blame me, followed the directions to the letter. It said to use a cup." He came in and pushed the bottle of detergent into her hand.

Buffy looked at it. "Cap." She said hollowly.

"What?"

"_Cap_. Use one capful. _NOT_ one cupful." She shook the bottle furiously under his nose.

Spike blinked. "Oh. Whoops. Missed a letter."

"Spike!" She slapped at him in exasperation.

He slapped back, stepping away. "Well, what kind of soddin' stupid-arsed word is that? Never heard the word 'capful' in my life!"

"You would if you'd ever used liquid detergent before. Have you _ever_ even done a load of laundry?" Buffy ripped the jug out of his hands and yanked the knob into the off position.

"No! Why would I? I live off dead bodies, all I need for a new outfit is a bloke in my size!"

Buffy clutched her hair, and resisted the urge- barely- to rip Spike's hair out by handfuls. Possibly cupfuls or capfuls. "Urghhhh! Go get a mop!" Buffy muttered viciously, slamming the lid open.

"Fine." He stormed past her, mumbling bitterly. "Y'know, I only did it to help you."

She stopped and rested her head on the lid. "What?" Buffy called faintly after him, lifting her head with a sigh.

"You complain about how hard it is to deal with the supernatural crap, you wannabe normal types." He looked through the closet in the kitchen. "Forget how hard it is for us undead types to play house! At least I try! With the neighbors, and the telly programs, and the shoppin', an' not murderin' everyone in this soddin' little burg!"

Buffy sighed heavily and began bailing water into the utility sink with the measuring cup left on the side. Spike returned with a mop. They worked in gravelly silence.

* * *

"Thank you for helping. And not staring too much at my outfit." Buffy finally muttered.

Spike shook his head over the smoothly working washer and dry (and printless) floor. _Shove it back down her ungrateful throat. Or yell at her about how absolutely god-awfully ridiculous she looks, and how I would have died laughing if I wasn't already dead. And if she didn't look oddly fetching bent over in little silky shorts._

"No worries."

She smiled at him, and everything went cloudy in his brain. "C'mon, Slayer. Missing our soaps. Or do you wanna play another round of lawless chess?"

"Soaps. I call the dictionary!"

* * *

"Gimme that book! There's no way Emile just said Ayla is running away with the color yellow."

"Are you lookin' under A or E?"

"It doesn't matter, it's my turn to-" Buffy and Spike were engaged in a struggle- using only two fingers each as they could easily rip the dictionary in half, even with one finger- when the doorbell rang.

"Upstairs! Now." Spike hissed and bodily lifted her over the back of the couch.

"No! What if it's-"

"It's the Larkins!" A duet of voices called.

Both fugitives let out a sigh of relief. "I'll get the plate." Buffy said, then looked at her attire. "Spike! All my clothes are still in the dryer!"

"Doesn't matter, as you are goin' up those stairs." He hit each word hard. "I don't trust 'em. No one who lives in this much rain could be that cheerful."

"Spike I-"

"Upstairs! Now!" He repeated, and this time he vamped, and put both his hands on her chest, pressing her back.

That cold tingle turned into a cold wave, adrenaline rush and something else, power wanting to come out to play with his.

"What'd your old man say? About risks?" He growled, and tilted his head menacingly, letting her see the wetness of his fangs.

_He won't take risks if I don't._ Buffy swallowed and nodded. "Be fast."

"Like lightening." He smoothed down the smoking jacket, and watched her scamper upstairs as he retrieved the plate. With his most debonair and disarming smile, he opened the door, once he was sure she was safely out of sight.

* * *

"What's the matter with Becky? I saw her dash off up the stairs." Beth greeted Spike, who wincingly opened the door into the setting sun.

"Beth is nosy. She was peeking through your transom." Paul grimaced at her.

"I was just trying to see if they were home, Dear!" Beth turned red and looked annoyed.

"Ah, no need to apologize. Here is your plate." He applied his most courtly voice as he held it forth. " I'm so sorry we haven't been by to drop it off. Becky's been quite ill. Shockingly ill."

"You look pale yourself." Beth said with a sudden rush of maternal instinct.

"Well... I do worry when she's sick." He channeled the memories of his ailing princess and managed to look worried and heartsick.

"Ohhh. You know, I work in a doctor's office. Would you like me to take a-"

"No!" Spike barked. Upstairs, something creaked. "No. No, really you're very generous to offer, but we couldn't impose. Thank you again, I'll just let you-"

"It's no trouble!" Mrs. Larkin insisted.

"Beth, can't you see they want to be alone?" Paul wrapped his fingers tightly around his wife's arm and propelled her towards the door. He nudged her side, giving a slow glance up and down, taking in the dressing down, the bare chest poking through, the bare feet and calves underneath, also mentally adding in the fact that the wife obviously was hiding upstairs- probably waiting impatiently for her husband to rejoin her.

"Oh. Oh!" Beth's cheeks went from light pink to fire engine red. "I'm so sorry, I'm just- oh my gracious I'm so-"

Spike looked mortified, and had to work hard to mask it. "We - no! Bu-Becky's ill. Honestly. Tossin' her cookies, can't keep anything down. It's the altitude. We'll be gone in a few days, she'll be fine then. For now, she's just supposed to lay low, take it easy..." He gave a forced, well-bred laugh, realizing his normal tone of voice was warring with his "William" voice.

"Has she been sick long?" Beth's curiosity refused to die. Spike considered helping it along- as well as the rest of her.

"Few days. She'll be fine. I'll look after her. She's just tired, and has a stomach upset. She just needs to rest and stay close to home. Not get tired out with visitors, I'm afraid." He edged them to the door, smile becoming painful at this juncture.

"Well... if she doesn't feel better soon, you tell her to come into Dr. Young's office in town. I'll get her an appointment." The blush was a glow now, and even her embarrassed husband seemed to have a softer smile on his face. "Good luck." She winked.

"Good luck. Tell her to try some hot herbal tea with three sugars, first thing in the morning, before the nausea really kicks in. Hang in there." Paul shook Spike's hand and backed away with a cheery wave.

Spike shut the door after them and sighed. Then frowned. "Coast is clear." He called softly.

Buffy emerged and descended. "I couldn't hear everything. Did they buy the story about me being sick?"

"Oh yes. They bought it an' then some." He sat down heavily, thoroughly sick of this charade for the moment. "Congratulations, Mrs. Johnson. According to the Larkins, you've got a bun in the oven."

Buffy staggered, laughed once. "No. No, not possible. No way they could think that."

"I think they think that."

She walloped him with the couch pillow and then crashed beside him. "What'd you say? No- don't tell me. Next time _you_ be sick, I'll be the cover story."

"Not bloody likely."

"Uh-huh."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yes huh!"

"Oh shut the fuck up!"

"Spike! We're missing the end of the show!"

"I hate those Larkins."

* * *

"Larkin residence."

"Greetings from the road, Shore Siders."

"Geoff! How are you?" Paul asked that night as he juggled the phone and flipping burgers with the other hand.

"Keeping well. Terrifically busy." Geoff sat on the edge of his hotel bed with lecture notes on his knees and some official looking papers surrounding him. "One of the reasons why I called, Paul. I don't have a lot of time to talk and I'm a bit behind schedule, no time to make other arrangements."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, no. I'm trying to organize some papers before I catch a late flight, but I wanted to ask you a favor."

"What do you need?"

"The Archive for Aboriginal Studies is sending some literature to my house for use in next semester's tour. I should have them reroute it to the institute or one of the tour's stops, but like I said, I just haven't got time to reroute it to a different city, it's already in transit. I know how rainy it is, I don't want it to sit out on the porch in the damp. Is it alright if I have the courier deliver the package to your place?"

"Sure, that's fine. But why don't you have them deliver it to yours and just ask your friend to bring it in?"

"Oh, he's there already? I didn't know when he would arrive."

"Yeah, he got here last week. Geoff, gotta tell you, I don't know what you mean about that guy being desperate for a break in our soggy climate. He's the palest person I've ever seen. You'd think he'd never _seen _the sun, or he's done time. No offense! Giles and Becky are very charming and the house was in great shape when we visited. Beth bought Mimi's popovers."

"So kind of her. Don't fret over Giles, he's such a bookworm, all of us curator types can be. I don't expect he ever gets too robust looking." Geoff answered absently. "And you needn't worry about the house, Paul, he always kept his flat in London spotless too, very orderly. He did need a break though, I expect he- did you say Giles and Becky? Who's Becky?" He frowned suddenly.

"His wife." Paul answered, now confused.

"His _wife_?" Geoff dropped all his lecture notes at once.

"Yes, Becky." Paul dropped his voice. "Between you and me, she's a hottie. Young, blonde, tanned. Mmm."

"Well, that doesn't surprise me. That she's attractive. But married!" Geoff chuckled. "Thought he would never settle down. Sly old dog! Alright, I'll have them take the package. In fact, I'm going to call them and grill the old boy and talk to this new lady in his life."

"You might want to call soon, they're going to leave -Argh! Beth! Hang on Geoff. Beth! Can you give me a hand?"

Beth came in from the living room, looked at her husband who was now standing over a pan of blazing burgers, and took the phone with a sigh. "Hello?"

"Good evening, Beth. Another cooking accident?"

"Is it ever anything else when Paul's involved?"

"You're right. Well, I'll ring off. Oh, one more thing, when did Paul say Giles- and ah- Becky? - were leaving?"

"Soon. She's not well."

"Oh, shame."

"I think your friend might be a father in the near future, Geoff. Just a little suspicion..."

"Rupert Giles! You sneaky, tweedy dark horse! Good night, Beth. I've got to make another call and then I_ must_ get on that plane."

* * *

Inside the unorthodox guesthouse, a phone rang and rang. No one answered.

Outside, in the woods past the house, a hoarse voice coached, "Work on your left, Slayer..."

"Work on your not getting punched in the face, Spike."

"Truce!" His nose was making an unpleasant crunching sound to the touch.

"Already had one. You told me not to hold back."

"I know, but I need a nose. Ruins the pretty profile when you don't have one."

"Get over yourself, dude."

"You don't think I'm pretty? Oh my poor little heart!"

This exchange was occurring to the rhythm of dodged and felt blows, and it suddenly faltered. Her swing was a little staggered, and instead of taking advantage of it, for some reason he stepped into it, caught her as she wobbled, even though they both knew she didn't need any help to find her balance.

"Thanks."

"Welcome." They stepped apart hastily.

It was the deep, no outside lights kind of dark, caused by the pines and leafy canopy. In that kind of darkness, with all the blood rushing through her, and adrenaline flying through both, and the mindset of "don't hold back"... something oddly animalistic tugged at their senses.

Which they tried to push away. _Don't feel her heart thudding that double time. Don't inhale that power. Or that other scent... what is that? Something sweet, something nearly undetectable. _

_ Hands on my arms, hands around my neck, pressing me down... creepy, violent, not okay. Fighting. It's all fighting. So how come he always lets me know why, lets me know what he wants- and he always wants me to do better not worse? He's training me to fight better, when I always thought he'd try any thing to tear me down. He's doing it for his reward, not for me, but he's just so good at helping me. When I don't want to kill him. Damn him and the confusing-ness. And he's not pretty! He's not ugly, but he's not pretty. _

"We never did make it down to this inlet everyone's on about." Spike began sauntering away.

"It's all the way on the other side of the woods. It must be miles." She caught up with him.

"So, what's that to people like us?"

_People like us. On the run people. Not entirely human people. Twice-dead, undead people._ "It's about fifteen minutes." She smiled and trotted past him.

* * *

Beautiful, placid water. Bright blue black sky. A thousand stars so bright you couldn't make out individual ones, it was just like spilled glitter. "Wow." Buffy whispered.

"Place isn't so bad, really." Spike sprawled himself down on the wet, pebbly sand as casually as if he'd been reclining on a bed.

"You're going to get soaked and stuff."

"Not afraid of getting wet."

_Well, I am. In more ways than one. Oh my gosh, I've lost control of my brain. This is how they break people. They send them into the wilderness to hide and torture them with non-English television and nosy neighbors and exploding washers and rogue chess parties._ "I think I'm going crazy." She told the little escaping edge of the sea.

_Just my type._ "No, you're not." He said firmly, denying his own opinion, and quelling her fears. He sat up and picked up a good sized pebble, flung it into the water hard. "Ha. Fifty feet in. Do better."

"With my eyes closed." She was grateful for the distraction.

"Seeing doesn't help this game." _No, it sure doesn't. Watching her bend, swoop throw, like one perfect piece of liquid, living machinery... oooh. _

He threw another rock, then her, back and forth, watching each other from the corners of their eyes, talking away inside their heads.

_Always had an eye for the pretty ones- like inspecting a lovely piece of veal in the butchers' window, but this is different. This is with the grunt and shove part, the want to get inside her part. Inside her head, her veins... her body. Just an urge, a different type of hunger. _Yes, he'd had lusts, resentfully-driven cravings that burned brighter when Dru spurned him.

He watched her outdistance his last throw with narrowed eyes and a small, satisfied smile. This was the only time, he realized, that he wasn't just _aware _of some pretty thing. Some young, vital, powerful, not quite human creature. That he didn't just recognize the urges- he was thinking about acting on them.

It'd be the stupidest thing he'd ever considered. Drusilla was waiting on him, unknowingly of course, but waiting on him to come back and help her, as he always did. While she waited- didn't she always have her cake and eat it too?

_But I'm not like that. I'll never be like that_. He looked at the small blonde and black figure, hair floating in the inlet's breeze._ She'd never want me to be. Heart whole, even if it kills her. Like me. _

_ Prolly why I like her so much._

* * *

To be continued...


	11. Chapter 11

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of show's dialogue will be used._

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Spike is the BIG BAD, Alexiarrose, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Sirius120, ShyL, Alottalove, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, SanityFair, micmoc, seapea, rororogers, Haleycc, Sushibar, jackiemack916,Touch the Dark, ValidescopeWest, Mike13z50, Rachel, Cavementftw, Lithium Reaper, Blade Redwind and Hulettwyo._

_Thank you so much for encouraging me! I value your support so very much! _

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XI**

_Day Twelve..._

Buffy woke up at noon, as had become customary. But what woke her today was not her normal body clock, or Spike moving around, cursing the sunlight and shouting at her about something. Or him trying to move quietly and sneakily to avoid waking her- and the sheer "stealthy" vibe he projected usually made her wake up instantly. "What the heck is that?"

* * *

_That's life for you. _Spike sat, moodily staring at the psychedelic print of Jim Morrison on the album cover in his lap. _Finally get the key to get the girl- and I wonder what it'd be like to be with the other one. Nothin' permanent. Just a taste. Which makes me unfaithful to Dru, and God, she deserves it. Slayer would rather die than have me touch her little 'only one previous owner' pieces anyway._

_ I'm screwed in multiple directions._

_And I'd rather just be screwed in multiple _positions...

He turned the record player up.

* * *

_People are strange when you're a stranger _

_Faces look ugly when you're alone _

_Women seem wicked when you're unwanted _

_Streets are uneven when you're down_

* * *

He kicked at the coffee table and lit up, exhaling smoke with a look of disgust. _Women. Bloody women. You could never understand them. _Half the time he was the one wanting, no, be fair, _all _the time he was the one wanting, and no one ever wanted him the same way. No one would now either. Without the little trinket, he was set on being permanently alone, or doomed to permanently meaningless fucking._ That might not be so bad. Darla and Angelus did it. Drusilla did it. _Even with everything he gave her, to teach her it was supposed to be forever, it was supposed to be for love. He considered that. If he just tossed in the towel, he could leave Dru, leave her with his heart, not just his body, and he could leave this crap assignment and be free again.

_ Be a full on bad ass vampire with no hang ups. Be the demons Slayers think we are._

He listened to Jim wail along._ No. I don't think I want that after all. What's the point of bein' alive forever if you have nothin' to fill the time?_

* * *

_When you're strange _

_Faces come out of the rain _

_When you're strange _

_No one remembers your name _

_When you're strange _

_When you're strange ..._

* * *

_Just the odd man out, aren't I?_

* * *

"What the hell, Spike? Is this our anthem or something?" Buffy stumbled down, hand to her head and messy ponytail.

"No, it's the Doors."

"Who's at the door?"

"Don't even." Spike stood up and began to storm back upstairs, passing her.

"What?" Buffy hesitated, then pounded up after him. "Why are you blaring old people rock music in the middle of the day and being a grouch?" _We had a good day yesterday. A good day for _us_, not for normal people, so why's he acting like this? What'd I do?_ Her fragile, friend-and-love-deprived heart throbbed.

"Shut up."

"What'd I do?" She demanded, an edge of desperation in her voice. He slammed the door in her face.

She did the unthinkable. She followed him in.

Spike apparently didn't expect it either.

"Oi! We said this was private property, the rest of the house we share, but the bedrooms are off limits!" He reminded her with a growl.

"We break rules," She reminded him back. "Why'd you yell at me?"

"Same reason you called me a jerk a couple nights ago!"

"I wasn't even mad at you- I was just- mad in general." She admitted, anger having the edge over guilt.

"I'm just fed up 'in general'. An' I don't like you callin' that song our song!"

"I said _anthem._ As in we of the Strange People. Not our _song. _That's a totally different thing."

He gave her a black eyed glare and rumbled in his throat but said nothing.

"Fine. Do the Angel thing. I'm used to it. Brood. Think major heavy thoughts and don't tell anyone, even if it's the one person in the world you can talk to. Not like we can go out to the local On the Run Anonymous meeting." Her turn to slam off into her room.

His turn to invade.

"I am _nothin'_ like your boy! _Ex_-boy!"

"I know! He was sweet, and quiet, and serious, and romantic. You blare loud music and smoke and swear and leave messes and... and you're here. He's not." Buffy looked disgusted. "Men."

"Women." He joined in the chorus of dissatisfaction.

She slumped down, arms crossed, on her bed.

He joined her. They sat, side by side, scowling.

"I'd rather be strange with someone than strange by myself. Why do you think I made friends and dated even though I'm supposed to be some mighty loner. Okay, I sucked at dating."

"Agreed." He muttered. She ignored him and continued.

"But that was all I meant. Every other word in that song was 'strange'. Which is very us. Oh, and by the way, you totally brought this on yourself, because if I hadn't had to get woken up by you blasting it, I probably wouldn't even have paid attention to what the guy was saying."

"You talk too much." Spike groaned.

"You, too. At least we seem to do it at different times."

He groaned again, a frustrated, yet cleansing sound. "I don't want to be like Broody Pants. I don't want to be like his alter ego, King of Pain, either."

"Ooh. I like that. That is so totally him. Both of him." She frowned. "Does that work grammatically?"

"No." He sank back.

She sank back unthinkingly, beside him. Hands brushed as they sprawled, and his calf layered over hers for a moment before they both twitched and moved away.

She stiffened. _Not okay. Not okay, not okay. Notokaynotokaynotokay! _

He gave her a shifty look from the corner of his eye. "Odd way to end up, yeah?"

"Mhm." She squeaked out with a single bob of her head.

"Should get up. Haven't eaten yet." _God, she's so warm. Blood all through that silky skin. Angel bit her. An' bit my Dru. Lucky, lucky bastard. Hate him._

"Me, either."_ He's giving off "Bite her" vibes. Should run now._

Nobody moved. Downstairs, Morrison's coal-smoke voice was belting out, "Come on Baby, light my fire" with increasing ferocity.

_Run. Now. _Buffy repeated more firmly.

_ Run interference. From brain to groin, at least._ "He did. Set his wife on fire."

"Say _what_?" Buffy did a complete flop and roll. Mistake. She was looking into deep blue eyes that she'd never really studied before.

He was looking at delicious, bitable cupfuls of cleavage. But only for a second. "He was high as a kite. I don't think he meant it."

_Gonna set the night on fire..._

"Angel tried to skewer me like a shish kabob. Angelus, I mean."

One and the same, but try to tell _her _that. "Dru stabbed me in the heart. But it was with a fire iron, nothing wooden, so it healed in a few weeks."

"We need dating help."

"Mine's just nuts."

"You'll fix her." Buffy said with simple conviction. He would. He'd do anything for his girl.

"You think?"

"Well, yeah. You're gonna protect me, and _I'm _sure as heck not gonna let me get killed."

"Damn straight."

They smiled. Smiling, lying together, face to face... She almost giggled at the absurdity.

Cold shivers again. Instinctively, they huddled closer, or at least she did. Another instinct was his, that occasionally repeated gesture, hand to her back.

_He's hugging me. Sort of. Ish._

_ I should not have my arm over her like this, not face to face, not like- _

She felt the safest she had in weeks. She sighed silently. "I'm still tired."

Her warm breath did unspeakable things to his earlobe, things he didn't know simple heated moist air could do. "I'll leave."

She hesitated."Don't have to."

"I'll stay." She looked up at him, and quickly away.

"Remember the rules. No biting while sleeping." She whispered teasingly.

"No stabbin' me through the heart either." _That's not even dirty, it's not allowed to have a double meaning in my head._

"Promise. Won't break that rule." Her voice was drowsy. Her eyes flickered to him again and back down. Last time- the only time- she'd been safe sleeping beside a guy was Angel. And he left. _Spike has to leave too. Eventually. Which is good because then I can go home. Still..._"Stay until I wake up?"

"Sure. No worries."

"Plenty of worries."

"Not while you sleep, Pet." He tensed marginally. Called her a pet name, but she didn't scold him for it. Merely moved nearer to him with another nod.

In a few minutes, amazing to behold, she'd actually drifted off. Spike didn't breathe, but now he hardly dared to blink. Or move.

Except to reach past her head, to the pillow beside her where the phone lay charging. He turned off the volume. _Let her sleep a little longer, worry a little less. _

_ Someone to be at peace._

He smiled._ And someone to be happy._ He was actually. For the moment, just looking down on her. Quite lazily happy.

_Oh no. She can't make me happy. Not like that._

_ Bugger._

* * *

"Drat it."

"Ignore it." Wesley urged, waiting by the door impatiently.

"What if it's Buffy?" Giles turned back to retrieve his ringing phone.

"She wouldn't use your home number. We'll be late meeting Robson and Abby."

"Don't call him Abby. _We_ call him Abby." He retrieved the phone with an annoyed huff. "Just like I always imagined having a little brother would be. Maybe I should be thankful mother and father decided I was enough after all. Hello?"

"Rupert!" Geoff's voice sounded pleased and puzzled. "You_ are_ back in California!"

"Geoff- ah- hello." He said uneasily. Wesley slammed the door shut behind him and walked worriedly over to his side.

* * *

Outside, the occupant of a nondescript dark blue coupe frowned. Wyndham-Pryce making an occasional visit was expected. But something was going on in that flat. With the car's windows open on the warm early summer day, and with the flat's door open, he'd faintly heard the peal of the phone, then the door slam. He couldn't go closer, that wasn't what was meant by 'loose surveillance'. He picked up his car phone.

"This is Gervais. MacAndrews? Run a phone records search when you've a moment?"

"What's happening?"

"Perhaps nothing. I'm doing my daily rounds between her most likely contact points. The phone just rang, and they both returned inside. They were about to leave. Still haven't come back out."

"Do they know you're there?"

"Oh, I doubt it. I'm only here a few hours a day."

* * *

"I figured you must've returned home today when I kept calling the house and no one picked up." Geoff's voice was bubbling with suppressed glee. "The neighbors said you were thinking of leaving soon. Home again, I see."

"Yes, yes, home again. But just about to head out so,"_ They don't have the wires tapped, not yet, haven't given them the chance. Oh, like I'd know. It all depends on who's working this. If it's someone from the wet works, God forbid, or just someone from surveillance. Travers wouldn't dare alert wet works. Keep calm. Keep calm..._

"Ah ah ah. Not so fast. I heard you've been a busy boy, Giles. Made quite the impression on the Larkins."

"Have I? Well... charming people." Giles bluffed. "Listen, Geoff, I need to ring you back, are you at your hotel?"

"I've moved yet again. Every week or other week, it's just exhausting. Although not as exhausting as life must be for you and _Becky_."

Giles paled, and Geoff continued, "Having a beautiful young wife has to be time consuming. You old rogue! Have I also heard it conjectured that we're soon destined to hear the pitter patter of little feet?"

"I-" Giles wasn't even able to wrap his brilliant mind around that. Becky was the name on her fake ID. After that, he lost the thread. "Pardon?"

"You sly dog! You were holding out on me!"

"No, no. No! Uh..."

Wesley marched to the drinks cabinet. He was not a drinking man. Well, he hadn't been. On the way past, he snatched the phone and slammed it down.

"Wesley! That's one of my most respected former colleagues!"

"Then you can ring him back."

"I don't have his number, he's on tour with an exhibit." Giles groaned.

"Oh, don't worry. I imagine the Council will have his phone number from your records in moments." He smiled sardonically and handed him a newly filled flask. "You drink, I'll drive."

* * *

"It's a hotel. Extension 237. Checked into by a Geoffrey Edmundson, Ph.D., O.B.E, and former member of a champion Oxford rowing crew. Also served as curator in the Indigenous Peoples and Iron Age Remains departments at the British Museum, overlapping with when Rupert Giles was curator of the Egyptology and Print collections." MacAndrews reported to Gervais.

"That was very quick work."

"I was very charming to the hotel switchboard girl. The background, well I asked that little secretary- what's her name, the one engaged to Robson? If she'd look into it for me. She's very thorough."

"Excellent work."

"I don't see the oddity in this. A man is allowed to have a phone call from a former work associate." MacAndrews said uncomfortably.

"Travers said to check into any unusual or unknown numbers, and Rupert Giles' records are hardly fascinating reading. In the last five months he's made the majority of calls to the same six numbers, or had the same six numbers call him- the school, Travers, Harris, Rosenberg, Summers, and Wyndham-Pryce, with some variation of course. He also stopped calling the Council as much once he no longer working for them. All other numbers were local."

"Are we to head to this hotel, track down this Edmundson?"

"No, the hotel operator informed me that Edmundson arrived alone just last night. He's only staying a week. Ginny- that's Robson's fiancee's name, Ginny Something or Other, she said Edmundson is on a lecture tour. He's very above board, the lecture tour can be confirmed. I don't believe he knows anything about this. Say what you will about Rupert Giles, he never broke his cover, the British Museum and this high school never had any idea what sort of man they had working for them."

"I don't suppose it is an issue. Unless there's another phone call."

* * *

"Paul here."

"Oh, good. Paul, I'm sorry, can you still pick up that package for me?"

"Sure thing. But what about the Giles and Becky?"

"They had to return home suddenly. I talked to him this morning, he'd returned home."

"That's weird. Well, she was pretty sick, I guess."

"Hm. Yes, well, must dash. Thank you so much for looking after Rupert and Becky. I-"

"Who's Rupert?"

"Giles."

"Giles?"

"Rupert Giles. He prefers to go by Giles."

"This wasn't Rupert Giles, this was Becky and Giles Johnson."

Geoff stared at the phone. "That's very odd."

"You want me to go over there? Is this something fishy?"

"No... no, I think I know what happened. Nothing but him being a bit of a prankster. Just pick up the package for me. Thank you, Paul. Love to Beth." Geoff hung up. _Fake names. Or he took her surname, or she still uses it. Maybe it's like checking into a hotel for a dirty weekend, Mr. and Mrs. Jones... Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. Oh my. _

_He's having an affair with a married woman. _

_ Don't be ridiculous. Not Rupert._

_ He's married one of those California beach bunnies! That might make more sense. Sudden departures. Abrupt weddings. Possibly a pregnancy. _

_ Either way, I can hardly believe it._

* * *

"I don't like this." MacAndrews muttered.

"You don't have to, it's simply Travers' orders."

"You shouldn't have called him."

"There was another phone call from that same number. Then another. We saw them leave and it's been hours, they haven't been back. We don't have a tail on Pryce, and they took his car. Something is wrong."

"I don't think Giles is implicated, even if there is!" MacAndrews stealthily entered the flat behind Gervais.

"You always think the best of people MacAndrews. You're soft."

The phone jangled and MacAndrews startled. Gervais remained calm, moving close to the desk, waiting patiently, and ah- ha.

_"You've reached Rupert Giles. Please leave a message."_

_ "Giles? It's Geoff. Look, no need for a fright. I don't care what name you used, you old rogue, or what you were doing. I know I wasn't supposed to know, and I'm sorry if I ruined a 'delicate' situation. You sounded more shocked than I was." _Laughter and a noise of dismissal._ "Bring a whole bloody harem up my way, just leave a few for me! But I do want to know- is she-or was she- hmm. Well, I would like to know why you didn't tell me beforehand. Hope to catch you next time you're in, you can call me back at the number I left on the last message, at least for a fortnight before I move again. Next time you come to stay, I hope we're both in the same state! Ring me back after nine, if you can."_

Gervais frowned, MacAndrews scribbled. "Giles hasn't been out of the state since well before her disappearance. It's documented. Well documented, by Travers, Wyndham-Pryce, even the press. He was shown in a news photo, leaving the student memorial service."

"I still say he's not involved." MacAndrews couldn't get over the feeling of the hand across his face, the absolute heartbroken rage in Joyce Summers' eyes. Rupert Giles had been dismissed for loving his Slayer like his own child. There was no way, that as a parent, you would let another parent feel the anguish of losing a child and not comfort her.

"You're most likely right. Doesn't mean, considering how close he was to his charge, that she didn't know of his old friends. Listen to the message again." They played it back, then one before it, just a quick one with Geoff's hotel number- and extension 237.

"Same man. Where's he live when he isn't on tour?"

"Washington state. Ginny said it was a town like Shorewood or Sea Side. I'll have to look at my notes."

"It looks like Edmundson had house guests while he was away- just not the house guests he'd thought."

"A woman and a man from what can be deduced."

"The Slayer was involved with a souled vampire. Angel, also called Angelus."

"He could have taken her away. He hasn't been seen. Spears is trying to find him, but hasn't had any success yet."

"Well, if the Slayer knew of a vacant house, she might have wanted to take her demon lover up there. We know it wasn't Giles who was the 'house guest'."

"Didn't she know she'd be tracked?"

"She must have. It's inevitable that we'd realize she was alive."

"She could be a prisoner."

"In which case, perhaps the vampire she associates with has returned to his true form."

"But _she _knew, _must've_ known of the house through Giles. That indicates she's hiding."

"I wonder what she could be hiding from?"

* * *

"Get up there. Take a plane to Seattle, then drive. Drive _quickly._"

"It's very difficult to just-"

"I suggest you have your diplomatic immunity clearances at hand, should you be pulled over for speeding." Travers said drily. "I want visual confirmation. Then you do nothing but report to me."

"But-"

"_Nothing_. That is an order you will obey, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now go."

* * *

"Robbie?"

"Ah, Luv, I'm out with the lads, tryin' to bolster the bereaved. Can you-" Robson tried to sound cheerful, but was actually a pale gray, brow with a sickly sheen on it, as Wesley played the last tape for a third time.

"Robbie, you asked me to keep watch for something that seemed out of place, and I had to call! I've had orders from Travers that I do consider unusual. Very unusual. He called me at home! Himself, he didn't even ask Ms. Prevral to do it, he called me because he said I'd already spoken to MacAndrews -and he wanted as few people involved as possible."

"Shhh!" Robson shushed the trio sitting in his hotel room, three grave faces, who never seemed to speak above urgent, gritty whispers. "Ginny's got something."

"I've been looking up information on a Geoffrey Edmundson who lives in Washington half the day."

"Washington? Edmundson?" Robson hissed over his shoulder.

Giles went white, and rocked backwards. Abby and Wesley had to physically right him. "No." He croaked.

"Are they after him?" Robson returned to his future wife.

"No, I don't think so."

"He's safe, Giles."

"But-" Giles hadn't told them everything. They'd spent the time, a few hours, carefully building up to a list of controlling and domineering behaviors that seemed out of character, even for their despotic leader, and had finally listened to Wesley's evidence, heard Travers' words themselves. Now, judging by Giles' stricken expression, they deduced he knew what Buffy'd been doing, where she'd been hiding, and now others would soon find out as well.

"He wanted me to make sure their diplomatic immunity papers were on file, and he wanted me to arrange a hired car to meet their plane in Seattle."

He placed his palm over the receiver and relayed, "They're flying to Seattle. Ginny's hiring them a car."

"Oh Lord. Dear Lord. Well she- well- she needs to delay them, stall them, something!"

"Giles-"

"How'd they find out?"

Robson's face went from gray to purplish in anger as he listened to her explanation. "They went into your house."

"Who?" Wesley demanded furiously, as Giles still seemed in shock.

"MacAndrews and Gervais."

"I know them." Abby spoke up, his Welsh accent more sibilant with anger. "Gervais is a snotty son of a whore, but he's not dirty. MacAndrews is a thick'n and he'd never hurt a flea. Why do you think he's always on surveillance detail? If he ever come upon a beast he'd shit himself and bawl."

"Travers won't use his own men, not those men. Too upstanding." Wesley said confidently. "He'll use someone else. He does want to make it look like a Slayer's natural death- to die fighting a demon."

"I've got to call her." Giles managed to choke out before he fled from the room.

* * *

"Mephistopheles will speak to you." A thick, silky voice ended Travers' wait.

"I refuse to call you that ridiculous name. You died a second rate demon worshipper and now you're one yourself."

"The lesson from that is, never play with vampires. So why would you bother calling the biggest, baddest vampire in the court of the Voudoun Queen?"

"I know about your 'court'. You're cheap con artists who offer reanimation, but not through the voodoo method, but through vampirism."

"They still walk out of here, dead as dead can be." Mephistopheles chuckled and waved a bejeweled hand around his opulent red and black home, furnished in high, if morbid, style all thanks to their scheme of 'eternal life'. "Demon or a Loa, it's a gift to the elderly."

"Don't you ever want something fresh? Young? Something of a challenge?"

"I like my comforts, Nigel."

"Travers."

"You won't call me by name, I won' call you by yours." The slow Southern drawl snickered.

"I know you like your comforts. You've grown your little empire quite a lot in the last few years. I can arrange, very easily, to have everything you've built destroyed."

Mephistopheles sat up on his velvet lined chair, a throne of sorts. "Jus' how? My Mama and I, God rest her broken neck, been in this city since it was nothing but sugar cane and snakes. Ain't no one moved me in a century!"

"No one has tried but scared groups of religious men with their torches, Bibles, and boats. I could make it very quick. Explosion. A fire. I may have a priest bless your 'bayou', turn the whole thing to holy water. How would your paying customers, and your comforts, reach you then? Oh, I imagine they'd come for a bit- but when they can never leave again- well it'll be very crowded. And then if you have an isle teeming with vampires or just dead bodies- the police will find out. A public relations nightmare at the least, your death at the worst."

"I thought you were some good guy."

"Would you call God good?"

"He an' I ain't on speakin' terms after what they done to my mama."

"Well, I call him good. But like him, I have to make hard decisions, about life, death, the roles we all play..."

"An' what role you want me to play?"

"I want you to kill someone for me. Summers. Buffy Summers."

"She the Slayer! I may be down river a ways, but I know that name."

"It won't be a battle. You surprise her, you bite her, you leave the body. That's crucial, you_ must_ leave the body."

"Say I do this-"

"You _will_ do this."

"Say I do- you leave Mephistopheles and his Queen alone? We do our business as usual?"

"Yes." Travers lied convincingly. He'd had so much practice of late.

"Where she be?"

"I'm waiting for confirmation. She's in the Pacific Northwest, we believe."

"Oh no, man, _hell _no. Mephistopheles don't leave Louisiana. Haven't for more'n a hundred years, alive an' undead. I don't wanna start now."

"An entire eternity... spent starving in your theatrical moss-covered mansion. Watching your 'Voodoo Queen' wither and die again..."

"_Voudoun_!" He spat. Mephistopheles looked up at his brown sugar beauty, with her kitty cat eyes and those honey sweet lips, and honey sweet hips, hair all cascading down from her priestess' crown of bones. "You worse than we are."

"I am a real king. You are just puppet masters."

He doubted that, one puppet master to another. But... soft hand on his arm, soft lips parting in a silent, worried question. He sighed."You leave my Jezza alone, hear?"

"You have my word as a gentleman." He certainly wouldn't go after her purposefully.

Meph snorted dubiously, dark eyes raking a worried face, pale cheek to a caramel one. "Fine. I do your dirty work."

* * *

"This _has_ to be enough to put a call for a full Council Board hearing into action."

"Between Ginny's reports and Pryce's tapes..."

"That's all well and good, but these could just be termed ramblings. Nothing has actually _happened_ as a direct result of his wishes. Well, we've taken matters into our own hands, but..."

Wesley nodded, trying to look sage. Apparently in the presence of other Council members, he reverted to his "pompous ass" leanings. "This could be turned around on me, perhaps he would say he was trying to draw out my unsuitability as a Watcher. I-hrm- I_ did_ ask for another assignment." Wesley pointed out.

"Don't be stupid, you wee tit, all anyone would have to do is look at your record when you had two Slayers to know you're unsuitable." Aberswyth waved that idea away.

"I say!" Wesley cried indignantly.

"Robbie, make his next one all soda, no Scotch." Giles rubbed his temples. "That goes for all of us. I'm very much afraid the only thing they'll take seriously is an attempt, a confirmable attempt, on her life."

"He was-" Wesley trod carefully, "going to approach William the Bloody."

"No one would believe testimony of a vampire." Robson sighed, "Even if we were able to find him and ask him, and he was at all cooperative. He's probably out there now, on her trail."

"He refused."

"Nonsense! Refuse? That one? Slayer of Slayers. No way he'd turn down the chance to take out one, with the Council's blessing!"

Giles excused himself, to the restroom yet again, to use his "wallet" to dial her in safety. Yet again, she didn't pick up._ Slayer of Slayers. No way he'd turn down the chance to take out one, with the Council's blessing. _

"Why hasn't she answered?"

* * *

"Unh?" Buffy rolled over in her sleep, shirt riding high on her slender ribcage.

_I could move onto her right now, and she'd never know until I was fillin' her up. Make it so sweet for her, I could, slow and low, and show her what a real lover is like, not that clumsy, lumbering, deflowering that big ox liked to do._

_ Or she'd claw me and scream until the Slayer side finally merges with her "normal girl side" and she realizes this is what makes super strength worth havin', even when you're not in a brawl, and she rides me raw. _

_ Either way, fun. _

_ But I'm not like that. _He sighed and breathed, "Not time to wake up yet." He soothed.

* * *

"She's not answering." Giles pulled Wesley aside.

"They can't have gotten to her already." Wesley fretted in turn. "Perhaps...perhaps it's time to bring her back, surround her here in town, let her give evidence."

"No one's attacked her yet, all this is based on what we told her. Travers will say it's our delusions, or mine, or some attack on him for dismissing me."

"But she trusts us, and we wouldn't lie to her. Well, you and she, at least...You'd hardly use her as a pawn. Travers knows that, and so does everyone else. It is the reason for your dismissal, after all."

Giles nodded, paced, and finally spoke. "All Travers needs to do is let a sniper shoot her, if he's that cracked, and I think he is. Or find a turncoat in his ranks? What if he gets to MacAndrews' children? Or Ginny? Robson I trust, but he and MacAndrews have something to play for, and all I have is her. All _you_ have is your good name, which is probably going to be dragged through the mud in any event."

"But not my good character." Wesley drew himself up staunchly. "That is what you have, even when you're alone, and everything else is against you."

Giles smothered a smile. "Don't waffle on, this is urgent."

"She'll have to move."

"Which means we need a plan, or a place."

"A place we can't know of." Wesley held up a finger. "You are mistaken, when you said you only had her. You have other youngsters relying on you. Are you honestly telling me if Travers had a gun to Willow's head, you would let him shoot her instead of disclosing Buffy's whereabouts?"

Giles winced. "No."

"You'd take him down." Wesley managed a small flicker of a smile.

"Too right I would."

Grim silence. "At least if I bought Willow time, I know Buffy has a fighting chance, but Willow- well she doesn't have as much of one."

"I know. This is a beastly business of trades and deciding what you'd do in the unimaginable event of... the unimaginable."

Giles nodded. "You're wrong as well. You have Faith."

"I hardly think she would ever-"

"When she wakes up- she'll have no one. Travers wants to kill her eventually. I _wanted_ to kill her. Buffy- well, this is a very long list. " He took off his glasses. This was bordering on soppy now. "You're a good man, Wesley. She's had precious few of those in her life. If you'd stop trying to act like her judge and jury and just like someone who has made a catastrophic ass of himself-"

"If you're trying to be kind, you're now in the 'failing miserably' stage of the proceedings."

"It's not easy. But you aren't the man she knew. You were a book in a suit, and now you're- less of one."

"This is all very moving." Abby interjected suddenly.

"And we can hear you."

"A bit."

"But don't you think we should have a plan?"

"Then you can pop back into the washroom, as you have been every ten minutes, and get hold of the girl."

* * *

_Several hours later..._

"Where've you been?" Giles bellowed into Buffy's ear as she held up the phone.

"Sleeping in, resting up! Then eating, watching some telly, I mean, TV. Why are you shouting?"

Spike resisted the urge to whistle nonchalantly as he slid from the room.

"I've called you eleven times in the last several hours!"

"That's weird. It didn't wake me up. I must've been really, really out."

"Well, yes. And unfortunately, you'd better _get_ out." Giles said heavily.

"What?" Buffy waved Spike off the couch and back into the kitchen. He stood close to her, ear pressed to the other side of the phone. She no longer minded his close proximity. At least today, when he was being a minimum of jerk.

"What's going on?"

"Geoff called his neighbors who are taking care of the house. And frankly, I have a number of questions about that before I even begin... Exactly how has it come about that you're my pregnant wife?"

"Ummm."

"I hate that nosy bitch." Spike growled. "Even if her popovers are good when you dunk 'em in a nice hot cuppa."

"My ID said Becky Johnson and they started calling him Giles and _he_ acted like we were a _couple_-"

"I could hardly say I brought my little sis along with me!"

"So I figured I'd better say we were Becky and Giles Johnson-"

"Then _you_ said she had to lay low, an' the old biddy saw her dashin' up the stairs and she thought we'd been knockin' boots. No, that was the man, actually-"

"So he said I was sick. That's all he said, I _swear_, that I was barfing and couldn't see anyone." Buffy picked up from him.

"Who wants to get sick on 'em?" Spike joined in again. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"And she assumed! Like, really, that's so much nerve!"

"I told her it was the altitude!" Spike said heatedly.

"Maybe I ate a bad clam, geez." Buffy rolled her eyes. "Forget jumping to conclusions, some people like to do conclusion hurdles and triathlons!"

"Good one, Slayer." The vampire chuckled.

"I liked it." She smiled back smugly.

Giles had given up trying to cut in and waited for a break in the tandem verbal rioting. "Are you both quite finished?"

"I'm good."

"Me, too."

"Good. Listen, I've just been home. Geoff, whose home you're in, called me. He left messages. Council members were also in the house apparently-" Giles had been back in his flat, alone, but not for long. As discreet as those men had been, he could detect what they'd done, even without Ginny's tip offs. He was now driving back to rendezvous with Robson again, to begin compiling a list of those they thought approachable about Travers and his plot.

"What? Oh my God, Giles, are you...?" _Please don't let them have... please don't let them._ She shook, and tears immediately went to her eyes. _They can't keep hurting him- to get to me._ Spike's hand deftly landed on her back again, and his thumb stroked a small line up and down in time to her quickening heartbeat.

"I'm fine." He soothed, resting his hand against the window, phone cradled to his cheek.

"Were you there? Did they hurt you? Dammit, why didn't I hear the stupid phone? I'm not napping anymore."

Spike felt an unfamiliar emotion. Guilt. What if the Watcher'd needed them? He'd known it was stupid to shut off the phone. But so was lying beside her for hours, just to think naughty, but surprisingly not vile, thoughts. Then waiting for even more hours to find the opportunity to get the phone out of her sight and off her person so he could turn the ringer back on.

"I wasn't there, at the same time, they'd been there earlier. And they're very discreet, Buffy, this isn't like- well this isn't like _that_." _No tortures. Nor kidnapping._ _Just polite, straightforward breaking, entering, murder if necessary, but not by _these _men. We have our dirty deeds departmentalized._

"They're gentlemen. They'll tip their hats before they shoot you." Spike muttered and took a swift elbow to the ribs.

"I wouldn't know about that." Giles lied hastily. "The main thing is that we have some help, Buffy. Things are beginning to be put in motion."

"So you can come up here now?" _Where I can protect you. Where I can just as easily put you in the line of fire. Crap._

"I'm afraid not." Giles murmured.

Spike felt like cheering and he also felt like cursing. End this stupid thing and no harm done really. On the other hand, don't end it yet, and it might go a bit further between him and the girl. Which was bad. But curiously arousing. That made him no better than Dru, and this was a never ending circle of back and forth with no resolutions. _Shit._

"Why can't you come?" Buffy whined slightly. "Or meet me someplace else? I mean, meet _us_?"

"Because they are going to figure out that there's a connection between us and they'll track me right to you. We knew they would be looking, Buffy. That's why we took so many steps to cover all the tracks." He murmured. "Now that they've figured it out before I had time to disappear, I haven't got a few days' head start to gamble with. Whatever I do now, they'll see, and they'll trace me." He pinched the bridge of his nose but it didn't stop the throbbing in his forehead. "Damn them, damn Geoff- well-meaning though he is, damn answering machines, and damn those nosy neighbors of his." He swore with sudden violence.

"I could bite 'em." Spike offered eagerly.

"No." Giles and Buffy replied as one.

The Watcher continued, "At this point, I can bluff them, if they interrogate me. Which they most likely won't get to for awhile, as they're apparently requisitioning plane tickets and hired cars- heading your way." Buffy and Spike exchanged a tense look. "When they do ask me, however, I can say you knew of Geoff's empty house because you'd heard me speak of an old colleague on tour, or you looked in my address book, something. I can say you must have needed to run for some reason, unknown to me, and you went there. When they investigate and find you gone- the trail ends, at least my portion of it."

"But- then where do we go?"

Giles sighed heavily. "Wherever you can get to, quickly and cleanly."

"Ooh, what about-"

"No. You can't tell me any details." His heart twisted as he forced himself to distance from her.

Buffy's face turned surprised, then hurt. "I can't tell you where we'll be? Assuming we can figure it out?"

"You're flying solo, my dear. Well, with your co-pilot of sorts. We'll still talk every day. That won't change."

_On my own, except for Spike. Men leave, or they get shoved away. My stupid, dangerous life._

"I am not abandoning you, Buffy, or my duty to you." Giles said with that peculiar quiet intuition of his. "I am merely taking one path, you take the other. We will _always _meet in the end. I promise."

Buffy nodded, and abruptly turned away from Spike and left the kitchen, phone to her ear whispering quietly. Spike watched her go, couldn't quite hear her, but knew what she was telling the old man.

_She's scared, and she hates running, and she wants someone she can count on. Someone like him. Not like me. 'Cause I'm evil and I'd turn on her. _

_ Yeah, prob'ly._

_ Don't matter. We're runnin' together, scared or not._ He left to pack.

* * *

"Get your stuff an' get in the car. I cleaned out the fridge, locked up the backdoor, an' I even put Lord Whatsits smoking jacket back on a hanger and hung up my towel."

Buffy stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Are you stupid?"

"No, I'm smart. _Stupid_ people-" he coughed pointedly, "are sitting at the table picking at the mobile phone."

"Where are we going? Did you think of that? Where is safe? How are they _not _going to be able to follow us?"

"You worry too much," he blustered, "I'm the expert at disappearing."

"But when you get caught, you just eat the catchers." She pointed out with a glare. "It's not the same as disappearing."

"I can do either. Free of charge. No trouble, really." He licked his suddenly appearing fangs.

"No, Spike. Dead bodies and missing people_ also _leave trails." She said with patronizing slowness.

Teeth gritting was utilized on both parts. "D'you wanna sit there? Maybe make a nice spread for the men coming to kill you? Or the vampire, or the demon, maybe all three?" Her withering look made him sigh. "The other option is that you do things my way."

She considered. "No killing humans?"

"What about the Larkins?"

"You can send them a thank you note for the wine and throw in some nasty comments?" She suggested.

"You're not takin' this seriously!"

"I'm taking this_ very_ seriously! You're the one who just wants to jump in the car and hope everything magically turns out okay!"

"I am not! Not magically. No magic needed, Slayer, it's two of the strongest, smartest fighters and undercover artists doin' what we do best."

"Running and hiding?" She asked bitterly.

"Makin' sure we see the next battle."

_First rule of slaying is don't die. _

"I'll pack."

* * *

"Where are we going?" Buffy slid in next to him, the cloudy night sky merging with the shadowy houses in their less inhabited part of town.

"Library. If I can find it, and it's still open."

"You want to stop and get books? I know we were bored, but- well, for one thing, I don't even have a library card for this town."

He clutched the steering wheel fiercely, and vamped for a split second. It was his coping mechanism, rather than slapping her. "Libraries have computers. We can look things up, places to stay, ways to get there. We can get maps. See Slayer read. See Spike plan route."

"See Slayer put fist through Spike's mouth. See Spike cry."

Spike gave up. Steering wheels didn't cut it. He slapped her. She slugged him in the wrist, and they both gasped in pain.

"Red light!" Buffy screamed, eyes suddenly back on the road as her head spun from the force of his blow. Tires screeched, horns blew, and Spike accelerated to sixty in the small main street center, and kept accelerating until he was out of town.

"Well._ That_ was subtle."

"Did you see the size of that library?"

"Tiny-ish?"

"Understatement." Probably had one gossipy old librarian, who'd watch every move. If some British bloke came to town in the next day or so to politely ask if anyone unusual had been in, looking up travel information, using the computers, using phone books, atlases- she'd describe them and peg them to a tee. They ought to hit some big urban center, where there were ten libraries, maybe the kind open all night, all with dozens of staff members and hundreds of teens and college students and people in general. No one would look at them twice, let alone identify them- if the Council trackers even thought to look there. "Let's get to the Seattle."

"Well, big cities kinda work for me. I hid out in LA for a summer. It was-"

"Bloody stupid. Vampires and demons blend in like nobody's business in a big city. Hard to see 'em coming."

"Hard to see _us_, too though."

"Always fight from a position of strength."

"Take the battle to them!"

"It doesn't work when you don't know where the hell they are!"

"You can't talk about planning, okay? Your plans suck!"

"Only when you muck 'em up! I had a hundred years before you came around, and my plans were legendary!"

"What's that mean, huh, Spike? The rookie outdoes the expert?"

"Expert? Expert!"

Voices raised, the speedometer climbed, and the rain came down harder, storms outside matching the unleashing fury inside.

* * *

"Attention all passengers. Flight 759, departing flight from Los Angeles International direct to Seattle-Tacoma International, has been delayed to adverse weather conditions in Seattle. We do not have an estimated time of departure at this time."

Gervais and MacAndrews turned to each other. "We could hire a car?"

"And drive? It's nearly an eighteen hour trip. This could be an hour or two delay. Calm down, man."

"Should we call Travers?"

"And fight our way through that screaming mob making fools of themselves? Demanding PacificCoast Air do something, as if they're suddenly able to control the weather?" Gervais looked around. "If we don't take off by morning, we'll call him. Even if we arrived tonight, I wouldn't be hunting about for her in the dead of night."

"No, true. Creates the wrong impression with the locals."

"At any rate," he flipped a small embossed card from his breast pocket, "I have my diplomatic pass. There's a VIP lounge one floor down."

"Well... I imagine they have a phone bank. The missus _will _be worried. The children will be just heading to school. I might be able to speak to them before they head out the door. I could probably find a spot of quiet in there."

* * *

"Silence." A dais adorned with mossy bones glowed green, and eyes flamed. "The Queen, she calls you, brother spirits, sister spirits, to find me an image, just one little image... use your eyes, and show me." The Creole voice crooned sweetly.

"Ain't she beautiful when she casts them bones?" Mephistopheles looked enraptured at his fine filly, speaking to one of their many former "clients", those afraid of death, willing to trade humanity to evade its icy fingers from taking complete hold.

"Bring her face into my crystals, eyes be mine..." Jezza shook, fingers with their talon-like nails pulling apart the fabric clouding her inner eye.

"Easy now, Sugah, daddy can find her without your help..."

"No no, Baby wants her Meph home sweet home right away." Eyes suddenly opened wide. " Screens. Books. Shelves. Turn little girl, turn so I can-" Jezza smiled a ghostly smile as she saw wide blue letters behind the worried looking blonde. "Seattle Central Public Library Reference Desk. Big sign. Little girl. Runnin' away, runnin' away, far from there..."

* * *

"Jackpot!" Spike ripped a page out of an Oregon phone book.

"SHHHHH! Library!" Buffy stopped scrolling though a travel website. She put her hand to her head and looked around with a twitch. "Spike, do you ever get the feeling that somebody's-"

He shoved the yellow sheet in front of her face and looked around, speaking quietly, knees pressed to hers as they straddled plastic chairs. "Found it. Shady Lake Rentals. Secluded mountain and lake accommodations, available all seasons. Weekly and monthly rentals."

"Spike! That's going to cost a fortune."

"It isn't. Look at the listing. It's down at the bottom, it's just a line, no pictures, no eight hundred number, no fax, no website."

"So? It's June. It's vacation season. They're not going to have anything. Plus, it's in Oregon. We just drove through there, we'd be heading back towards Unnydale-say." She dropped her voice.

"Really, Slayer? That's the code name? Why not just say Los Sunnydalo?"

"Shut up!"

"No, _you_ shut up!"

"Alright, you wanna do this, we'll do this. You get me killed- I'll take you with me."

"Wouldn't wanna go out any other way." He smiled suddenly, sincerely, a bad boy smirk with blue gaslights burning in his suddenly playful eyes.

Buffy sighed. "Make the call."

* * *

"What've you got that's available immediately, cheap, isolated, and out of the sun?"

Spike had to wait for his answer. It sounded as if someone was chewing and swallowing. Perhaps belching. "Not a lot."

"That's very helpful. More specifics, mate?" Spike snarled.

"Got a place off the Cascades. Near Bachelor Mountain, about ten miles into the reserve. Lake adjacent, fully-"

"What's 'adjacent' in this case?"

"Two miles."

"Pretty big stretch for adjacent."

"Look, it's available and it's cheap. D'you want it?"

He had a dozen other questions, but he needed something fast. If it wasn't suitable they'd go someplace else. There were a few pertinent questions he had to ask, however, things the Slayer'd gut him for_ not_ asking. "Power, water, heat, all that?"

"Yeah. You might have to prime the system a little, but directions are in the cabin."

"Telly?"

"Telly? Television? You British?"

"No, Argentinian." Spike rolled his eyes.

"Uh... when the weather ain't too bad."

"Near stores?"

"Forestry Commission has a supply road that leads into town, nearest one's 'bout fifteen miles. You can set up supply deliveries at the Ranger Station though, if you plan to be out there awhile."

"Got a number?"

"Yeah."

He sighed. Slayer was going to hate him. On the other hand- no better place for a pair of wolves to build a den than in a mountain, where they could see for miles around, where everyone wanting to get close to them would have to bloody well work for it. Where the chance of making it look like a typical "slaying accident" would be almost nil, where goons would have to take extra time to plot and plan, because headlines of "mysterious death of young woman" would receive tremendous amounts of attention. "Got an address for this place?"

"Well, directions. You're gonna get on Cascade Lake Blvd. and turn onto the scenic route for about thirty miles and then you're gonna see Forestry Route 3-A. After about ten miles you'll-"

"Hang on!" Spike began scribbling frantically in scratchy black handwriting on the back of the phone book's page.

Directions and numbers were given. "Credit card?"

"Sure thing." Spike pulled out his wallet and gave the man a credit card number, one owned by the previous owner of the Corolla. He hoped it hadn't been cancelled.

"Okay, that cleared, let me give you a receipt number."

Spike let out a silent "Yes!". God bless the single, traveling man, the staple of many a vampire's diet, away for weeks at a time before someone thought to track him down.

"When you arriving? You have to stop at the ranger station and get a key from them."

"Tonight, or tomorrow morning. Uh- how long is this hike from Seattle?"

"About eight hours. But you're not gonna be able to get into the ranger station until tomorrow at seven. They're already closed for the night."

"Don't they have an emergency man on duty?" Spike demanded.

"Yeah... but there probably will be an emergency or two. Flash flooding predicted in the Cascades tonight, and I hear severe thunderstorm warnings are in effect until tomorrow at noon."

"What's a little rain?" He scoffed.

"Oh, nothin'. We don't worry about rain up here. Golf-ball sized hail they make mention of, though. Weird weather for this time of year, but what can you do?"

"We'll risk it."

"I wouldn't. Oughta stop overnight if you're driving in from Seattle."

"Look, I'll worry about my own travel arrangements, thank you."

"Fine. But you're not from these parts. Let me tell you, you better be careful. Shady Lake Rentals doesn't do insurance claims for acts of God. Or boating. Fishing, water skiing, snowboarding, snow skiing, small fires, forest fires- well, that's under act of God, animal attacks-"

"I get it!"

"You pick up the rental agreement at the ranger station."

"Alright, alright. Good night." Spike slammed down the phone. "Idiot. _Cheap _idiot."

"Who?" Buffy asked.

Spike turned around with a suppressed gasp, and pursed his lips. She was standing right against him and she'd managed not to tip him off. "Not funny. Let's go. Quick, we've already been in here too long."

"But- we need to get directions or a map, or something!"

He wanted to argue about vampires not needing bloody directions, but that would end badly. Plus with her, he needed all the help he could get. _Bloody hell, daylight. Slayer drivin' through the mountains in daylight. She'll drive us off a cliff. _They _had_ to get there tonight. "I'll get a map, you get to the car!" He shoved her along hastily. _The less time in public the better. And the sooner we leave the better! _

She nodded and disappeared.

Spike stalked through the reference section, stealthily grabbing a road atlas for the states of Washington and Oregon, and a few others for good measure. On his way he light fingered a few wallets of distracted college students who had their headphones in and their eyes closed, snoozing on books. He left the reference area without detection.

Then, like a silent black blur, he was back, and gone again, a Spanish to English, English to Spanish dictionary under his arm. Just in case the weather was good, and the telly happened to work.

* * *

"So, we're going camping?"

"Sort of."

"In a cabin or in tents? Because I hate tents."

"Cabin. Not a very posh one, but it's cheap and it's there."

"How'd you pay for it?"

"Diner's Club." He winked. She looked confused, then angry, then let it go. "I'll drive until light, then you, same as last time. It's about eight hours."

"Eight hours? Why? Oregon and Washington are right next to each other!" She protested vainly.

"Yes, and on the map they're only an inch wide, but in the real world..." He smirked condescendingly.

_So much for the minimum of jerk. Just when I thought I was going to get rid of the dis in dislike, at least until this hideout from hell was done. _"Sorry I asked." She crossed her arms and sat back, refusing to look at him as he smoothly pulled the Buick out of the above ground parking garage.

Lightening flashed and made her jump, and he twitched._ Great setting for a horror movie. Storm, vampire, lonely cabin, mutant freak girl... _

"Uh- the guy in the rental office- none too bright mind you, said there's flash floodin' on our route."

"Oh." Buffy resisted the urge to bang her head repeatedly against the window. _Get me out of here, get me out of here._

"An' a severe storm warnin'. Golf-ball size hail an' that."

"Uh-huh." _Out. Out. Out. Out._

"Said the safest thing to do would be to stop overnight someplace."

"Safest thing for people who aren't being hunted down like animals, yeah."

"'S what I told him." Spike turned out of the city, driving fast in spite of the rain, as if he could beat the weather out of town.

Lightening streaked across the sky again, and a piece of ice, no bigger than a pea, smacked into the hood of the Buick.

"C'mon, gimme a break..." Spike hissed angrily at the sky above, racing out onto the interstate, the highway shining like glass under the downpour.

"Spike, you're gonna kill the mortal girl." Buffy dug her nails into his sleeve reflexively as the car skidded. He ignored her, drove faster still.

"Spike, I'm serious, if you get me killed in a car accident, that's as good as a 'slaying accident' to Travers, and I will _stake_ you if you don't slow down!"

"We do not have time to worry about weather!" He spat.

In answer, the black sky lit up again, and a second piece of ice hit the car, this time on the windshield, leaving an inch long fracture on the wet glass.

"_You_ might not have time- but I'm the hunted girl, and I say we do!" T_his is why I hate driving. Why would a Slayer need to drive? I can run really, really fast, and I can stop on a dime. Unlike this thing!_ The car hydroplaned as tires hit pooling water. Speaking in a strangled gasp, Buffy half-plead, half-ordered, "Pull over at the next exit, and get _off_ this road."

* * *

_Day Thirteen..._

A bumpy and thunderous hour later, the onslaught of hail finally forced him to listen to reason. Spike jerked the car to a halt in front of the seediest looking hotel Buffy'd ever seen.

"No." She stated simply. "There's a Howard Johnson's up the street. I've never even heard of this place."

"That's because it's not a chain. It's a run down, hole in the wall, 'bring your own john and a bottle of five dollar hooch' sort of establishment." Spike began to reach into the back for his duffle.

"Whoa whoa whoa... why in the world would you think I'd go in there?"

"Because." Spike pointed to the painted sign under the neon letters which flickered VACANCY.

Buffy read aloud. "Cash Only. Rooms for the day, half day, or hour. No ID. No Questions Asked." Her nose wrinkled. Then her whole face wrinkled. "Spike, I think I could catch an STD by walking through the parking lot."

"Wouldn't doubt it... watch where you step." He pulled the duffle into his lap.

"I'm not going in there!"

"Well, I am. It's sleazy as hell, but I know how to pick a room. Look at this place. Bet they don't exactly do a boomin' business. Probably use five rooms out of twenty and I'll pick you a safe one, okay?"

"No! Not okay! No está bein!"

"Well done, Luv! Watching all those movies paid off." He spontaneously praised.

"I'm serious!"

"So am I! No one would ever look for us here, ever. Think about it. Why in the world would we possibly be here together?"

_Oh man._ Buffy's eyes dilated briefly. What sorts of things people did in these places._ Dirty things. Not in love things. But... him on top of me things. Bad. Bad, bad, bad thought._

Spike had the same sort of reaction, only his was hidden in a flare of nostrils and sudden increase in salivation. _The sorts of things people did in these rooms... Nothing sweet, nothing nice, no sugar and spice here. Down on her knees and pinnin' each other down, hard, fast... pay for the night, and get just as much use out of it as those blokes who paid by the hour._ He had stamina, she had to as well...

"No." She swallowed and repeated in a cracked voice.

"Fine. Sleep in the car, I don't care." He bluffed. If she stayed in there, he had to, part of the protection gig. He strode out and slammed the door behind him.

A perfect shower of pelting rocks fell from the sky. Spike turned to take one last look at the car, and hid a smile as he saw her running from it, heading to his side.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	12. Chapter 12

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Smut warning!_

_Author's Second Note: Some French/Creole/ Vodoun (voodoo) terms are used here. To give you the quick ad dirty, and not at all precise version: Loa is the spirit called by the priestess to inhabit someone, cheval is the one inhabited. And for anyone who wants to worry about the unlikelihood of vampires and Vodoun being combined- please don't, just enjoy the fun._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of show's dialogue will be used._

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Spike is the BIG BAD, Alexiarrose, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Sirius120, ShyL, Alottalove, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, SanityFair, ClareRaye, rororogers, Haleycc, Sushibar, jackiemack916,Touch the Dark, ValidescopeWest, Mike13z50, Rachel, Cavementftw, LunaML, Blade Redwind and Hulettwyo._

_Thank you so much for encouraging me! I value your support so very much! _

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XII**

_Day Thirteen..._

"Gimme half a day." Spike went up to the clerk, who sat behind a scarred glass partition, in a boxed in room like a drive-through window at a bank. He took cash from Buffy's hand as she deftly passed it to him behind his back, both staring at the rates listed on a painted board above the manager's head.

"Then you leave at one PM."

"That'll work."

Buffy tugged at his sleeve and whispered. "Please tell me tomorrow I'll just drive highway?"

"Should be dusk by the time we get to the tricky bits." He mumbled from the corner of his mouth. "'Specially the way _you_ drive."

"Room five." Spike was tossed a key.

"Uh, no, wait..." Spike swaggered away, pushing Buffy to the side so the clerk would never get a clear look at her face. Senses, particularly nose and ears, went into overdrive. Two grotty little floors of ten rooms each, all with a front facing door. Ones on the very far end, very top were the most seldom used, judging by his nose, which couldn't even pick up the faintest trace of humans. "When was number twenty last used?"

"You a cop?"

"No!"

"I don't know. We don't keep records like that."

"Is it usually the last room you rent out? Hardest for the maid to get to?"

The guy shrugged.

_Probably don't have a maid in the strictest sense of the word..._"Just try to remember the last time you had a full house." Spike allowed himself to snarl.

"New Year's Eve? Or was it _last_ New Year's Eve? There's a Howard Johnson's up the street now, see, and ever since they opened we've-"

"Room twenty." Spike cut him off and tossed the key back through the slot in the glass. With a heavy sigh, the manager gave him the other key. "Ta."

* * *

Buffy swiftly moved with him, hissing questions as she went. "I told you we should've stayed at the hotel up the road. Is he saying this place hasn't been rented out in between six months to a year and a half?"

" Sounds like."

"Eww. Spike, this place probably hasn't been cleaned in a year then!"

"Nope. Prolly not." He pushed open the door with a grunt. "But it hasn't been used in a year either. An' not that it bothers me one way or the other, but I'd rather hear you belly ache about cobwebs an' spiders in the corners rather than the invisible nasties."

She nodded, stomach twisting as he strode in and she bravely followed. "One bed. We need a different room. Or two rooms."

"I can't be in a different room, an' you know that." He ignored the fact that she was standing in the doorway like a frightened sheep on the slaughterhouse steps. "Gotta be near you." Something inside him shivered, and he pushed down the knowledge that he _wanted_ to be near her.

"Should we go get a room with- what?" He was giving her a strange look. She finally forced herself to shut the door and cautiously stepped in, super alert, eyes taking in every unsavory- yet oddly not filthy as she'd imagined- detail.

"This place doesn't do double rooms." He said as patiently as possible. _People come here to fuck. They come here to make it quick and get it done and then they move on, probably never come back. One time deals in this place. Exchange pleasures. Probably just as often exchange money._ He didn't tell her all that, though he'd love to wipe that wide-eyed look off her face.

But it's hard to do that when you're busy grappling with self-control and fighting the urge to get back in the car yourself.

"I guess not." Buffy flushed. _Why would they? Couples come here to be together. Well, maybe no couples, and maybe there's no 'together' outside of... What am I doing here? With him?_

_ Just a hide out, just a cover story, just one more completely unexpected place they'd never think to look, because anyone who knows me knows I'm not like this. I'm especially not like this with _him.

"I'll take the floor, then you?" Buffy offered.

"Sure." Spike nodded. "Although I'd avoid the floor, looks like the rains comin' in on this side. I can sit up in the- hm. No chair."

The room had a large, plain bed, a single end table at its side, with a light built into the wall above it. The only other furniture in the room was a single dresser with disproportionately big mirror over it as it faced the bed.

"This place better have a bathroom though." Buffy grumbled and dropped her bag on the dresser as she went to investigate. "Well... there's toilet paper."

"Congratulations." He lit a cigarette with slightly shaking hands.

"No shower curtain, but there are towels. " She came back out with a perplexed look. "What's the point of not having a shower curtain? That really can't save money."

"Have no idea." _Probably got torn off by someone and they never replaced it. _"You don't need a wash, you just had one this afternoon."

"Before we leave I'm taking a shower! After sleeping in this place? I'm just going to skinny dip in bleach."

"I told you, it's not been touched in months! The nose knows. No human scents 'round here." He inhaled again. Mistake. Could smell her, just her, after plodding through the downpour, washed clean and soaked, wet fabric, damp hair, and every pore shedding adrenaline and fear.

_Like me._ If his heart could beat it would have cracked his ribs.

_Want her. Want her on that bed, just this once, of course._

_ Don't think like that! How the hell can you think like that, when this is a quest for a gem to cure your true love? What right have you to even think about what it'd be like with her?_

"Um. I'm going to get out my wet stuff and put it over the shower rod to dry." Buffy came back out and grabbed her bag, not quite looking at him. Okay, she stole a peek. Spike nodded absently.

In the grotty little room lit with that single light, he was all lines and shadows, an occasional flare of red from embers in his cigarette. He looked serious, and thoughtful, and dangerous.

_I've totally gotta get over my thing for dangerous guys_. Buffy shut herself in the bathroom and began undressing, her wet skin instantly prickling up with goosebumps.

_I do _not _have a "thing" for Spike! I just got comfortable around him. We hung out. Hanging out does not equal naughty curious thoughts._

_ Maybe it's not curiosity. It's being lonely, and being afraid, and the feeling of his hand on my back and the blue in his eyes and - stop that. Think about Angel._

* * *

He paced around the room, did little nervous gestures with one hand, and worked his smoke with the other. Tugging the sheets, checking the locks, opening the narrow closet.

_It'd be nothing. Nothing important. _

_ So why do it?_

_ Think of Dru._

_ First. Only. Meant to be. Destiny. Needs you to help her, heal her._

_ I could still do that. This wouldn't be with the heart, it'd just be with the body. _

_ If she even wanted my body._

_ She never would. In love with someone else, both of us._

* * *

_ He loved me so much. He left so I could be protected from him, from all the bad-life stuff. So I'd be safer. _

_ Kinda screwed up. _

_ He loves me. I love him. Always love each other, just can't be together._

_ That's a crappy deal. _

Buffy put her thin cotton teeshirt on, and her ripped sweats. She should have brought something warmer in from the car. The thought of venturing back out there now, when the hail and the wind seemed to be trying to outdo each other- nope, not happening.

Then she stalled, adjusting the clothes that were drying. Pausing. Frowning. Moving them over on the rod, so that Spike would have room to dry his too.

The introspective frown deepened._ Is it really love and wanting to keep me safe if he left me on my own to outrun these killers?_

_ Of course._

_ I just don't know what _kind _of love that is anymore. Not the kind that fights for you. And he _has_ a soul. Spike doesn't. But look what he'll do to make Drusilla better, or even just to keep a pact, honor a truce. _

_ This is pointless. I can't hide in the bathroom all night._

Buffy took in three deep "psych yourself up" breaths and walked out resolutely, tangled emotions, wants, and voice crowding in her head and choking her throat.

* * *

"You look cold."

"I _am_ cold." Her throat was tense, and tight, body was on fire, so why'd she keep shivering?

He did the unthinkable. It was automatic, but he'd only ever done it for one other. He took his coat off and slid it around her shoulders.

She loved the weight of it instantly. And it touched a nerve. Angel had given her his coat. She still had it. She'd almost worn it on this trip, but Giles had warned, nothing too important, too personal, nothing that would indicate her absence was planned. So it stayed, separated from her, just like its original owner.

"Suits you." He smiled faintly.

"It's a tent on me, Spike." She smiled briefly.

"I mean it suits you, as in suitable. This was a slayer's coat."

She dropped it with a sickened twitch, and it fell on the floor. She stepped out of it.

Spike looked angry, and hurt, bending down to retrieve it, slowly rising, his body only inches from hers. "Show some _respect_. I do. It's my trophy."

"I don't do 'trophies'. I don't like memories of things I killed." Buffy's lips curled in distaste.

"Every warrior takes a spoil from the battle, Luv. All the battles that count." He touched the white scar on his brow. "First Slayer." Held up the coat. "Second Slayer." Licked his lips, and whispered, "Drusilla. To the third Slayer." He inclined his head jerkily towards her.

Her lips spasmed, overcome with conflicting emotions._ Wasn't my fault. Although I guess I helped. I should tell him that he can't blame me, I should tell him not to be all morbid._ All that came out was, "Sorry."

"Don't apologize. I won, but someone left with the prize."

"You'll get her back."

"Someday..." Standing too close. Too close and she didn't back away.

"Not today?" She whispered a question, lips framing every letter, entrancing him.

_Oh, what's she doing?_ "Nope."

_What's he doing?_ Breathing coming out hard, more erratic, and he hadn't even touched her, just kept removing inches between them.

"Ever wonder how to fill in the time, until someday?" Hand on the back of her neck, then her back. _Send the message. I have you. I have you. I _will _have you..._

_ No. Do this and it's just what Drusilla did to you. _

_ She's not with me now. When she is again, we'll start fresh. _

_ God. This Slayer's the hardest I've ever had to battle..._

"Sometimes." She confessed. He pressed, but she was the one who moved. Right to his chest now, gasping slightly when she bumped into him.

_This isn't love. This isn't even _like_. I don't know what this is._

"Bloody wrong." He lowered his head slightly.

"So much." She lifted her chin, then tucked it down suddenly, big guilty eyes melting a stony part of him, and turning to stone a different part. "Not...?" _Not what? What do I want to say? Not all of him? Not too much? Not at all, any, ever?_

"No. Just some." He nodded, and let his under hand, so cool, cup the warmed, thrilling neck, its hummingbird pulse flying under his fingers.

"Some. To fill in until someday..." _No. No, I don't want to do these things with him, it's too raw, it's too real, it'll hurt all over again after..._

"I won't hurt. No one hurts you. Even me."

Something Angel never promised. Because he couldn't keep promises like that, he didn't trust himself, had no control over himself, which was why he wasn't there.

"Okay." She heard herself agree, and felt the room tilt away, away, away, mouth splitting hers open, quietly questing, but not pushy. She was surprised, and she kissed him back, the same way, almost as if she were hungry, but not sure what she was craving.

_No! Has to stop._

_ No! But I need this._

_ I _want _this. At least- some of it._

Spike probed in wonder. Heat and wetness and strength, and that was in just her lips and tongue._ And that's all I'm going to find out about,_ some_, not the whole package._

Buffy stopped fighting halfheartedly and sighed. _Damn. He's good at this._

The room seemed to tip again, harder this time, and they were on the thin sheets of the bed, him on top. She spasmed under him, a reflexive reaction to being attacked, held down by your enemy. She expected him to snark or to laugh, or make a little joke to ease her fear.

She didn't expect his lips to leave hers, and press very softly to the hollow between her jawbone and earlobe, whispering, "Too much?"

Buffy shook her head numbly. He didn't move, again unexpected. She could feel him swallow, and swallow again. "Did he hurt you?"

She had the momentary thought that he was going into sicko territory, that he wanted to hear about pain and it'd turn him on. It slipped away. That would hurt her, and he knew it, and he'd just promised not to. "No... he was fine until after." She whispered.

He nodded. That worry was gone. So he hadn't hurt her, so it wasn't going to be a matter of her being afraid of his touch. Just inexperienced with touch in general, and not wanting_ him_ to be the one touching her, not ideally at any rate.

Spike moved his mouth back to hers, and they shifted. She could feel something hard press between her hipbones and she shuddered in twisted want. _Want pleasure. Want touch. Want to be held and touched and to forget where I am and who I am for five minutes... but I bet it'd take a lot longer with him._

His hand moved over her breast and she jumped, shouldered him in the neck so that he lifted off.

"Here." He sat up and pulled her with him. "You drive."

"I don't- I don't like to 'drive'. I don't even think I know _how_ to 'drive'."

"I already taught you." He winked and flicked off the bedside lamp.

* * *

So she "drove". The pace of kissing was steady, increasing in intensity. She got to the point where she straddled his lap, and kissed him until she had no air, and fell limp across his chest, at which point he'd pick her chin up and stroke his tongue softly all over her lips and throat, revving her up once again.

_ Need to be touched, but don't want to have sex, make love, whatever. It could never be making love. I don't want him to do special things I only pictured with Angel._ No head between her legs. No head between his. No to so many things. His hands caressed either hip softy, and fire flared into her middle. Hands were another matter.

She stalled. "Uh- your shirt?" Buffy had hugged the dampness off of him and onto herself.

_Right. Wet clothes. Could get out of 'em. Hate to get out from under _her _though. _"Too wet for you?" He inquired.

"I noticed you were wet, that's all."

Her hot little crotch was riding his thighs. "Noticed the same about you." He smirked.

She pushed back reflexively, looking chastened and uncertain. "I- well, I-"

Spike eased his hands up the middle of her back once again, and let his head tilt to hers, chasing after the escapee. "I thought we were supposed to do that. Wet. Hard." He swallowed. "This isn't what I planned."

"Why do it then?"

"Because I don't think either of us has anything else better to do- an' it makes the time pass.

She licked her lips, and licked his in the bargain. "This is just part of filling time? Chess, Spanish soaps, and- stuff?"

"All it could ever be."

"Yeah." She breathed a little easier. _That's not so bad. Not like I haven't made out with other guys before. Never made out with a murdering demon before. Unless you count the Angelus part of Angel. Which I- grrr._ Buffy slammed her mouth back onto his and locked her fingers around his neck, inhaling him, and shutting her eyes tight to block out everything else.

* * *

He'd kept his hands to a somewhat restricted access, but it was getting harder. Ha, no pun intended. She was just so warm. Had to cradle that and have that, he never got to hold humans for more than a second or two before they were limp and turning cold. He inhaled, enraptured, and told his hands to go wild. It was a one night only deal, after all.

"Whoa." Buffy found his hands in her hair, and the bed under her back as he had a heady loss of balance, taking her with him. _Him on top of me._ Instinct to push him off vied with instinct to hold him closer, indulging in the connection she'd been craving. Her hips bucked, just once, but hard.

_Well, you don't have to be told twice do you?_ Spike's right hand shot down between her thighs. Sweat pants were thin to begin with and moist at this point. Two fingers in a smooth little slide, glide, and twirl, all on the outside, down over the split of her peach.

Buffy's eyes flew open. Holy crap, that was a _good _feeling. How had that feeling been skipped in the previous romantic encounter? Then just as quickly, her eyes shut tight, wincing, head shaking. _You can't let him do this._

"Weird, isn't it? When it's with someone you hate." Spike's hand withdrew.

"I don't hate you." She reflexively reassured.

Mutual looks of shock. "Not right now, I mean!"

"Phew. That's a relief." Spike grinned. His grin faded as her palm pushed against his bicep. "Hey, I -"

"We can't do this."

"Slayer... I like you, too. For now." Her hand lessened in pressure. "For now." He repeated emphatically. "Now when you get in that car this afternoon..."

She tried not to, she would testify to it under oath, but she couldn't help it. Buffy giggled helplessly. "Probably before. As soon as this is over."

Sobered them both up. _So there's a "this", if there's a time when "this is over". It has to happen before it can end, right?_

_The ending part is going to be a hundred times more awkward, so why don't we just stop before we get started down the path to greater stupidity?_

Spike could read the hesitation. Trained himself to hunt slayers and this one he had hunted and watched the longest, had the deepest association with, respect for, admiration for, the only one he had feelings that may have been classified as "liking" for. He could never profess to understand her completely, she still surprised him constantly, which was one reason he enjoyed her so much, hunting or in a truce situation. Still, sometimes he could nearly read her mind. "How 'bout we delay the 'end' for as long as possible? When we're done- never happened. Never mention it. Never did it. An' you can call the shots- God knows it'd be safer to let you do it in a bedroom than in the car."

The giggle escaped again. "What do you get out of it?"

There were times when her surprises were not so pleasant. What'd he get out of it? Chance to get his long-deprived rocks off. Chance to have live flesh under him, maybe eventually _on_ him. Chance to feel mind-numbing guilt, and something that could so quickly give way to mind-numbing pleasure. He shook his head. "Same things as you."

"Oh. _That._" Buffy nodded. _The bad things. The good things. The let's-stop-thinking-about-it things._ "Shake on it?"

"N-n-n, think we're past shakin', don't you?" Spike licked his lips and lowered down onto her, enjoying the stiffness in her muscles and the brief feeling of power he had over her. Like that night when he caught her running in the woods, told her not to back down when her game face came out, just absorb it. Take the power and give it back to her. Dru gave him that gift. Found power hiding in him, and unleashed it. Best thing in the world you could give to a person and-

_No more comparing! Dammit! Just enjoy the feel of her tensed up under you, and watch her relax. _

"Guess so." She struggled not to struggle. _He won't hurt you. He won't_. "Still have to seal the deal." She licked her lower lip provocatively. He seized her mouth with a long kiss the ended with his teeth giving a sudden savage little tug on her pouting lips. "Ground rules-"

"We already set plenty. You're callin' the shots."

"No biting." She touched her bitten lip. "Not the fangy kind."

"No pointed wood- not the staking kind."

"Fine." Her heart was doing that double time thing, and now she felt it, felt muscles hardening into steel with adrenaline, yet as she accepted it, realized she wanted what was about to happen next, it became... just part of her. She rolled him over, hands up, under his shirt. Surprise on his face turned into a catlike grin.

"Touch on it?" The tremor was almost out of her voice.

"Sure, Baby."

_He called me "baby"._

_ Bloody hell._

And then his hands made their way under her shirt as her hands did the same to his. A long, slow stroke. Touch.

_She feels amazing. _

_ I thought no one would ever do this with me again..._

Dams broke, at least enough for something to trickle through.

"Here." He pushed his hand up to the back of her shoulder blade, pulled her down a little. "Come here..."

* * *

_Thirty minutes later..._

His shirt had flown off, his belt undone, jeans unzipped. Everything of hers stayed on, but that didn't matter because hands could go in or down as they pleased. It was kissing, and petting, and rasping out little words that were probably compliments, and laughs that might have been friendly, but who really cared when nothing had felt this good in so long?

"You're soaking."

"I know that!"

"Well, you gonna let me finish you?"

"I- how?"

"Digits?" His fingers had been making sorties down between her thighs but coming back quickly. Ramping her up. Now he waggled those same fingers tantalizingly over her belly.

"I don't think I can-" Too late, one slim sinewy taper, piercing folds, slipping in. Adrenaline rush that felt like solar flares, burning her.

"Easy, Baby, easy. I'm just the tool, you use it how you want it."

That was nice offer, but it didn't seem right. Love was supposed to be this mutual thing. _Well this isn't love._

Last time wasn't mutual. She hesitantly moved on his hand, then took his wrist in her fingers, pulling back. "In a minute." She mumbled. Last time was also the first time, and Angel has been tender and passionate and desperate... and big, and consumed, and losing himself. She lost herself as well, this clinging little ball of love and insecurity. There was give and take, but it wasn't _mutual. _

Funny how you had to have something to compare it to before you could see what you had.

"He didn't hurt - I mean, I didn't hurt you, did I?" He coughed nervously.

"No. But you're not a tool either. Oh, you're a bastard-"

"Ah, sweet nothins..."

"-but you have my back, and I have yours." Hands on her hip bone, across her thigh, and in, her pretty little neck teasing him as it pressed his lips and she breathed in his ear, "I call the shots, and I say you have to play."

"Play how?"

"Rule-breaker style, duh. Is there any other way we play?"

* * *

_Oh God, how'd it get so good?_ Buffy was lost in a haze, one hand locked hard on his as it supported her, and the other back in her hair.

"Gotta hear it, come on..." He chuckled. Two fingers in, slick and soft, milking that little tunnel and the turgid treat on top of it. Still hadn't found the sweetest sweet spot, but she was a constricted, tiny thing inside. Unlike his grandsire's approach to wooing- not that this was anything like wooing!- he didn't slam in and demand, or torture and beat. He worked and teased and eventually...

Buffy couldn't take this anymore. Passive wasn't the order of the night anyway, and passive NEVER worked with Spike. "Higher!"

"Work with me, work it just a little bit down and-" Oh yes, she opened and pushed down and the curve of his fingers slid sweetly home into that oh so tender spot. Crinkled little patch that quivered like jelly and as delicate as if it had been bruised.

_We click. We click like I didn't know clicking was even possible._

"Ohhhhhhh God! What is that?" Buffy moaned and looked frantically into his eyes.

"Reward for the hard work of chasin' you down, openin' you up. Your reward for letting me in."

"Thank God you didn't need an invite for this." And then words stopped making sense. Words gave way to pictures and feelings.

_Hot. Tingly. Ow. Cramping. Oh God. God. God. Tingly. Toes curling, sheets twisting, limbs twisting. Stop stop stop too much and -_ "SPIIIIIKE!"

He almost emptied right there, right across the convulsing form halfway beside him, halfway underneath. "That's right, that's right, that's my girl, Slayer!" He cheered her on, internally preening and cheering for himself as well, as he reveled in the fact she called his name. Her head crashed against his and she pushed her legs spasmodically against his wrist. "Easy, comin' down. I can take you up again, if you want." He offered, his fingers leaving her, wet and covered in the second best aphrodisiac after Slayer blood- Slayer juice.

"Not- for a - minute." She breathed out, and looked at him with a puzzled kind of wonder. "That did not feel the same as um- well. The other time."

"Maybe we shouldn't think about the others. Other times."

"Such a good idea." Buffy purred and languorously moved over him, vibrating nerve endings all over her skin vibrating extra hard when her half- bared torso met his. Met the prodding hardness between his hips. "So. Is there a male equivalent of what just happened to me?"

"Uh. Yeah." He had a sudden, very private, very hardcore thought that he shied away from. "Several." He focused on some nice vanilla ones. "But we got hours and hours to kill, might as well... uh. What are you doin'?"

Shirt off, slowly, over her head. Warm body on top of his. Hand between them. Fingers curling around. Grip hesitant and then locking firmly. "I think you told me this was not backing away, being just myself? Using what I've got?"

Her pert bust made a six inch glide up and down his pecs, hand making a similar trek over a cool steel rod- give an inch or so. "Oh you are a bloody quick learner." Spike groaned and thrashed his head back onto the pillow.

"I've had some very good teachers."

"Slayer..."

"Shh. I'm concentrating."

* * *

_Ten minutes later..._

He hadn't had this sort of concentrated burst of pleasure in forever. For one thing, Dru didn't sweat, and this one did. Bare chest to bare chest, they were slick with sweat. Mouths were gasping and tongues were dripping. When the girl lost herself in something, fucking or fighting she was incredible at it. He'd call it a hand job, but it was so much more, more like pleasuring himself in a swathe of silk skin and incredibly deft, reflexive hands.

He burst with a harsh curse in her ear, and a hard pump up into her hand. He heard a little gasp, and a little mewl of uncertainty, and she was sitting up.

"Sweet buggerin' _fuck_..." Spike was instantly searching for his lighter and smokes.

"Be right back, wash this off." Buffy was swinging her legs over the bed before he could stop her.

He watched her go and chuckled, "Dunno why. Gonna be covered in it again before this night's up."

* * *

Mephistopheles rode through the night, possessed by a Loa, himself the cheval, or the "horse" the spirit rode. His demon didn't like to be ruled by another being, but his demon had long since learned to be a vessel for the Voudon. The Loa controlled back home by his Queen and Priestess, he was a floating black shadow with coal red eyes, howling through the night, traveling hundreds of miles like clouds blown on the wind.

* * *

"We'll have to book into a hotel. This is madness." Gervais said irritably. "Bloody storms."

"Well, if we can't travel, neither can she. No one can on a night like tonight." MacAndrews said cheerfully.

* * *

"I know we said this wasn't going to be 'over' for awhile, but we're going to have to sleep sometime tonight." Buffy climbed back onto the bed, top back on, firmly ignoring the clamoring voices of guilt in her head.

"Sometime. Not yet." He'd dispensed with the jeans now, and all that he wore was a smirk and final wisp of smoke.

The urge had worn off for her, but it was coming back. At least the urge to be touched and held and not be alone. She sat stiffly up, letting his arm run over hers, fingers seeking, fingertips hitting a half- exposed breast. " Um. Spike, I-"

"Shhh. Don't talk. We talk too much."

She wanted to argue. Which would totally make his case. So she nodded, and let him tug her down beside him.

_Naked Spike. Oh, so not supposed to be doing this, I know what I said, but I just..._ His hand rested on her lower back and traveled up, lying softly on her spine. Buffy had the sudden heart breaking thought that she trusted him in bed- more than she would trust Angel. Spike wouldn't suddenly turn on her, she just knew that. He was already bad but he could choose how to act, what to do, how to treat a person, no soul required.

Spike felt all the tension drop from under his palm, but it wasn't in a good way. Her head suddenly went into a slump and fell to his shoulder. "Hey-not gonna do any deal breakers."

"I know that." She looked up at him with shining eyes, absolutely confident, corners of her lips valiantly trying to tug up. "I _know_."

He smiled tightly, and then sighed. He had one of his "mind reading moments". "Best not to compare, Cutie. It doesn't help." She gave him a wry nod in return, and placed her hand carefully on the ridges of muscle on his side. "Wanna sleep?" He'd thought they'd go for most of the night, but hell, this was good. The less they did tonight, the less they had to avoid mentioning in the future.

"Can't sleep."

"Know the feeling."

She looked up at him. "No television."

"I know. You'd think they'd have something to watch in here, wouldn't you?"

"Like you said, people don't come here for that." _People come here to do what we just did. More than what we just did._

"No. Make their own entertainment."

Maybe it was the recent weeks of forced boredom that had taught them to rely on each other to fill the voids experienced in their captivity. Maybe it was the hours and hours they'd spent training, also out of boredom and being held a mutually captive audience, watching some secret show unfold. Whatever it was, sometimes they just knew what to do, how to move, without explaining it. Oh, it was a far from perfect system, but for that night, it worked.

Kissing and holding onto each other spontaneously started up again. This time the edge of frenzy was off, it was slower, but no less intoxicating.

It lasted for hours, on and off, kind of in a holding pattern because there'd been a subtle shift in mood. This wasn't so much about the hot, lusty thoughts. This was comfort.

Buffy found herself under him, over him, and at some point, she decided, clothes were too hot, and too cumbersome, and really not a big deal.

His hands helped her top over her head when she struggled to get her elbow between the sleeve and his body. She was instantly pleased with her decision because Spike nestled down and did sinful things to her breasts with his tongue and teeth.

She rolled on top of him in one of those joyful spasms he'd learned to love that night, smothering him with her lovely handfuls and his hands slid down her bare back and into her sweats, cupping and kneading her cheeks.

Buffy squirmed and arched, and the pants lost their purchase on her waist, sliding down to her knees.

Spike reversed their positions in a spasm of his own, landing on top of her as her sweats slingshotted to the end of the bed. _What's happening? Oh fuck, what's happening? Don't think, don't think, and don't move..._

She'd only done this once before, and this time was a lot more confusing and tense. Her body had instincts she guessed, when her thighs seemed to part on their own, and her eyes blinked rapidly. _This is what happens, right? I mean, not always in this position, but this position is pretty obvious, isn't it? No pants, big pointy thing on the top- soft open thing on the bottom. I guess it happens. _She waited for it. Not looking forward to it. Just waiting.

He got a fresh, unblocked rush of her scent, warm and pleasure soaked. Her legs were no longer tangled with his, and the barrier of clothing was gone. _Maybe she doesn't realize this is an invite, she's a rookie. But I never thought she was stupid, not about what counted._

One calf touched the back of his, intertwining. She waited for the push. _You lay down, he's on top, nothing between you, he moves up, you move down... It's done._

"Hm." Spike let out a soft noise between kisses, and pulled his head back so he could look at her. Her eyes were blank on the surface, but when they met his, they changed. They warned. _Don't say anything, don't ask anything...This is just what how it goes. Don't talk about it._

He was bad at following orders. Probably why he was a leader. "You sure?"

"Damn it, Spike!" She hissed suddenly.

"Because I'm not." He caught her clenched fist as it went to punch his shoulder.

The fingers uncurled. "But this is just how- just how it ends up." Buffy protested weakly.

"Since when do you and I do anything how it's supposed to be?" He tentatively stroked her hair. "I don't want it when you're sad." He admitted._ I don't want to give, or to take, all. We said some. Oh I want to take all as in ram up inside each and every opening and do it until the sheets are soaked or something breaks. That's the little man's opinion. Too bad he's not a solo act. The big man says- this isn't right. Yet._

Last time, first time, she'd been sad. Angel was going to leave, maybe never come back, maybe for six months or six years, and she'd be left waiting and wondering. Unfulfilled in love, so it was time to- to be filled. "The only time you'll get it is when I'm sad."

"Then I guess I won't get it." He shrugged. He hated self-denial. However, life on the run was all about that. Guess this was just a little more.

_Damn him. Seriously._ Because he did everything wrong, and it came out right enough and she liked him. She liked him so much right then. "I don't think I can feel happy tonight. Too confused."

"We said we didn't have to-"

"But what you just said- that was close to happy. Not in the orgasmic tidal wave happy way, because oh yeah, I had_ that_. _That _was pretty sweet."

He sighed, laughing out as he did. "You know you make me want to?"

"Shout?" Buffy looked mildly confused.

"That's a song, Slayer." He controlled the desire to nip her shoulder. "I mean... you make me want to be inside you. Do things to you. With you. Mainly to you."

Her insides let out a rush of warm flutters. He growled, low and wanting. "That doesn't help ease the want." He criticized, when warmth translated to scent.

"No one says things like that." She pointed out. "It makes hot tinglies, okay?"

"Hot. Tinglies." He shook his head. "How the bloody fuck did you and I end up in the same bed?"

"Desperation? Hail?" Buffy offered.

"Could be the way you bend over in boxers." He winked.

"Nope, looks have nothing to do with it." She shook her head. "At least with me. Although," she glanced down, flushed, and rolled her eyes pointedly, innocently towards the wall behind their heads, "I suppose that's a perk."

She was gonna make him crazy. He had a thing for crazy. "You sad, Baby?"

"Not exactly. Right now." She let her hand wander south.

He shivered. "See if I can cheer you up, shall I?"

"You do like a challenge."

"Love a challenge. And you're the biggest, most annoyin' one."

"Flattery."

"Dead honest."

"We're so strange."

"But we have a damn good 'anthem'."

* * *

He had reached the library in good time, faster than any plane, and able to travel when planes couldn't. Loas flew, they were spirits inside bodies after all, and with one so practiced at being the cheval, one who could endure it for hours and yet who was unable to be fully possessed and consumed, they made amazing time.

Tracking her from that point was far harder. At first he doubted he had the right one. He'd gone inside the library, after the most ungentlemanly act of breaking into it, and found the place his Jezza described. A thousand scents lingered there, hundreds of bodies in a day. It would've been a hopeless task that he would've given up on if not for the fact that his Queen and his court were waiting on him, needing him. Travers picked a vampire not known for his viciousness this time, but with one who was skilled enough, and had a tremendous amount to lose. People who had something to lose were always the most desperate to succeed.

He circled that reference area multiple times until he caught a strong, strong scent, something like human but with twice the power in the amount of adrenaline it produced. And another telltale sign, vampires lingering in the same area. Well, one vampire. A vampire and this unnaturally addictive scent were all over each other, on the same chairs, same floor space, by the pay phone...

Who else would be trailing a vampire but a slayer? Now the mystery was that the trail ended at a vacant spot in a parking garage. _They must've gotten in the same car together._

_Most peculiar. Somethin' don't feel right..._

It's hard to track a car on a highway, on a rain soaked night, with the heavens lashing and the hail clearing the streets and denting the cars.

_But if she on the run... if a vampire got a slayer captive, or vice versa, they either gonna travel farther than most would, or stop right here in town. _

That'd be another one of those posers of a problem, if an Oregon phonebook, heavy with demon scent, hadn't been left on the edge of the pay phone's box. If it hadn't had some little indentations left on the cover, like someone wrote over it, wrote a couple rough directions.

_So they headin' away from the city. An' this storm is bad enough to drive every mortal off the roads..._

_ Maybe the ones a little more than mortals'd last an hour, maybe two- headin' straight south. I guess I'll head south, too._

* * *

To be continued...


	13. Chapter 13

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Smut warning! (Mild)_

_Author's Second Note: Some French/Creole/ Vodoun (voodoo) terms are used here. To give you the quick and dirty, and not at all precise version: Loa is the spirit called by the priestess to inhabit someone, cheval is the one inhabited. And for anyone who wants to worry about the unlikelihood of vampires and Vodoun being combined- please don't, just enjoy the fun._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of show's dialogue will be used._

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Spike is the BIG BAD, Alexiarrose, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Sirius120, ShyL, Alottalove, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, SanityFair, rororogers, Haleycc, Sushibar, jackiemack916,Touch the Dark, ValidescopeWest, Mike13z50, Rachel, Cavementftw, ammuna, LunaML, Blade Redwind and Hulettwyo._

_Thank you so much for encouraging me! I value your support so very much! _

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XIII**

_Sunrise..._

Mephistopheles touched down lightly, one sleek black stacked heel on the asphalt by a slightly battered looking Buick. He'd stepped in dozens of hotel lots, all the ones right off the exits, all the exits about forty minutes to an hour south of the library. He sniffed. Slayers had such unique scents. So did vampires. Even the still dark sky and the deluge couldn't wash away the combined scents of a Slayer and a vampire. He looked up at the neon, still bright against the dark gray background of the thunderstorm- _'Specially not the scent of a slayer and a vampire in some sorta sick heat._

_I did hear she took a shine to one of us... Mhm. _"Loa... Non montar le tete." He bowed and felt himself lose the airy feeling, demon filled him completely, hungry and rebellious after having had his being shared. He didn't like to pull his game face. He was such a pretty boy, his mama's pride and joy, and Jezza's _bo gason _and king. It also tended to alarm the paying customers. However, this wasn't about looking pretty right now. He transformed with a twisted smile and started to mount the outside staircase, heading to the upper floor. He no longer needed to second guess. Any vampire in a thousand yards would be drawn to that smell.

Lust. And fear.

* * *

"Oh... Oh! Ohhh-kay." Buffy writhed on his hands again, and only unlocked lips to make the needed noises when pleasure overcame her.

"Good, Luv?" How many was that for her? Was plenty for him, more than he'd had in months, that was damn certain.

"Yeah... Mmmm, God that's good." Heads tangoed, bodies brushed, deeper, wetter, more lazily, more openly...

_It could still be just "some" until someday. If it's only once and I don't really care about him like it matters, right? People have one night stands..._

_ Not me though._

* * *

_ How many times did she do it to me? Let's start with the week after I was turned- no, no, let's start with after we left Darla... It's payback. _

_ But I'm not like her. Slayer's not like that either._

_ Still...Been feelin' so rotten and this feels so good._

* * *

"Spike?"

"Shhh."

_We're not gonna do this. _He lifted her hips. _Why aren't we? We've been dancin'- and it's been a hell of a dance, for hours and hours and hours... We've got hours left too. We can sleep later. But we shouldn't do this._

_ It's not really so bad. _She slipped her hands down to his tight glutes, beginning to pull him in. _Because nothing that feels this good can be too bad. And no one should be left and run away from and work so hard- and get nothing out of it. But we really need to stop this._

Bodies and minds were in sharp disagreement about this, with emotions doing a shitty job of refereeing.

_What the hell? Every other part of the plan has had a twist, why not this?_

"Slayer, I-" He could hear her thudding heart evening out and a steady downpour of rain- and something else..."Shh."

"I wasn't talking." Buffy murmured. "Hey!" Spike's body changed trajectory, leaving hers instead of merging with it.

Spike was up, scrambling past her. "Get in the bathroom, lock the door." He said flatly.

"What?"

"Not now, Slayer, now is when you listen, not talk!" He hissed as he pulled on his pants, then knelt, eyes never leaving the door. He rooted through her bag, hands wading through layers of cotton until he found the goodies at the bottom. A big, thick bladed knife and a half dozen stakes.

Buffy was swiftly beside him, fingers closing around a stake of her own. "I'm not not listening, I'm arming myself! I'm not going to use a toilet or a washcloth as a deadly weapon."

"But I bet you could if you had to." Spike chuckled, even in the midst of the dire situation. Potentially dire. Something was outside, in the dark pre-dawn. Something that didn't smell, sound, or feel right. He moved towards the door. "Don't come out. Unless I tell you it's clear."

"I won't." She retreated to the bathroom.

"Promise me."

"No." She shut the door and he heard it lock.

"Knew she wouldn't..." Spike leaned on the room's door and listened, fists curled.

* * *

Spike slammed the door open, and into a very startled, snarling vamp. "What the fuck are you doin'? You some sort of sick perverted overgrown, undead magician?" Spike hissed, shutting the door behind him.

Mephistopheles hated such comments and it made him react, even in such an awkward environment for a loud brawl. "I, Sir, am Mephistopheles La Fon-"

"Oh shut up you, Mr. Toffee La Fancy Pants, or whatever it is." Spike didn't mind the brawl. This day dawning was as dark as evening falling, and a dive like this must've seen more than a few men fighting over the same woman- though probably not like this. "I'm in the middle of somethin'." He jerked his head significantly towards the motel room. "Get your jollies someplace else."

The darker of the pair squinted, sniffed, and looked around. "You. Who are you here with?"

"None of your damn business. I'm on the job- and on the job, if you take my meanin'. Now scat." _Turn. Dammit, _turn_, don't wanna do this face to face, wanna get you in the back, have a little more surprise on my side, since you clearly have the advantage of not guardin' the target..._

"I'm so sorry, my friend, nothing personal, but I have my own job to do." He spread his hands apologetically.

"I have a job myself, an' I'm not your friend. You escape from the inside of one of those vanishing box things?" Spike looked at him scornfully.

"I was hired to-"

"By who?"

"That is none of your worry, all that you -"

"It _is_ my concern because I was hired, too." Spike told a half truth, and glowered. _Hired sure, but not by the same man._

Mephistopheles scoffed. "You don't smell of la morte, you smell of_ la petit morte_!"

Spike knew exactly what that meant, but he preferred to keep him talking, draw him out, lull him down. "Gimme a break, Magic Man, I'm just learnin' Spanish."

"That's French, _enfant_!"

"Wrong fella. Maybe this Enfant guy is in another room-" A pale fist slammed into his cheek.

"Don't take Mephistopheles for a fool!" He spat, eyes red and glowing suddenly. "You have the Slayer, an' I have to finish her!"

Spike cupped his cheek, and slugged him back. "I can't have a little fun before I do my job? Travers said she had to die, he didn't say I couldn't have fun with her first." He arched an eyebrow and swallowed the sickness rising in him, masking it with an unrepentant grin.

"Travers? Travers asked for you to do this mess? Ooh, we gonna boil that one into stew..." Mephistopheles spat, eyes flashing.

"Good plan. So uh- if you'll just excuse me," Spike slipped the stake from the back of his jeans where he'd hastily concealed it, "I'll get on with this."

"No. I'm sorry, I hate to rush a man in his work, but this _mede _threatens everything I have if the girl isn't dead and the body is left someplace."

_Threatened Dru, too. If I still had her, would've been everything I had, and it would have made a difference._ "Know all about that bastard's style."

"I'd be happy to give you the credit, Mephistopheles jus' must see it with his own eyes."

"Yeah." Spike vamped. "That's not gonna work for me. I like to take my time. You don't get a Slayer to yourself every day."

Dark brows and sullen mouth turned suspicious. "I can wait." He held out his hand over the railing. "It's dark as night with this storm. Or I can go sit in that car of yours."

He tried not to let the panic brewing in him show in his eyes. "My car?" _Shit. Shit. Shit._

"What business you have in Oregon, anyway?"

_Bloody, buggery, soddin' _fuck_._ _How'd he know? Never mind. _"Well, I heard Portland has-" He began casually, then lunged.

Mephistopheles didn't expect that. He let out a short, curdled yelp, and crashed into the railings. "You miserable-"

"Don't talk, it'll be easier to concentrate on killin' you. Plus your accent is drivin' me nuts." Spike growled and stabbed, though he was blocked by a caped arm. "And who the hell wears a cape?"

"You're one to talk about maddening accents, you speak like a fishwife! My cape is part of my image!" Meph pulled out a skull handled dagger set with rubies. "Like this." He dodged another blow and raised the shining blade above his head.

Spike scoffed and went high as well, breaking the locked position of the raised arm. "Honestly? What are you gonna do with that? Offer me up like a goat?"

"No Loa'd accept you." The handle cracked back, revealing a short thick piece of wood with a vicious point. "But I don't intend to sacrifice you- just kill you."

"Ah ah ah, I said it first." Spike twirled his own stake.

* * *

Buffy unlocked the bathroom door. She crept forward, keeping low, now dressed in the clothes she'd left drying in the shower. She could hear thuds. Muffled, hissing voices. And then a huge cracking sound. She ran to the door and peeped through the key hole. Nothing. Nothing outside. "What the heck?" She kept her hands on the door, but didn't leave the room. "I'll give him five more minutes and then... Then what? I walk into a trap? Okay, ten minutes. Why isn't there a clock in here?" She groaned and kicked the door with her bare toes. "I need shoes. Find shoes. Wait ten minutes. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three..."

* * *

Spike sat up and looked back at the second floor from the vantage point of a pile of broken wood in the parking lot. "So glad this a cash only joint." He groaned, staring at the splintered railing remains in front of their motel room.

"Ohhh." Meph moaned and rubbed the back of his head. His pomaded raven black hair was now a wavy mess. He muttered a string of French under his breath and looked up at the sky. The clouds were still thick and spitting rain, but beginning to thin as the day began. "Enough talk."

"Couldn't agree more." Spike slammed the back of his head with a part of the railing. His attacker didn't black out, but he did lose his balance momentarily, allowing Spike to wrap his arm around his windpipe and pull him back behind the dumpsters in the corner of the parking lot. "Sorry to kill such a snappy dresser, but-" He muttered sarcastically, stake pointing home.

Meph was a slippery blur when he needed to be. Elbows thrust back, catching Spike in the ribs on either side. "I have no such regrets." He slid down, and faced Spike, dagger-stake ready to pierce. "Except for your taste."

"I thought-" Spike straightened up painfully, "that we said no more talking- ow!" A thin line of blood appeared across his throat, dagger slashing, twirling until the wooden point aimed at the heart. "That does it. Try to be nice, try to keep things low key- and some bastard in a cape is always screwing things up. Suddenly know how all the villains in the comic books felt..."

It wasn't an evenly matched battle. Mephistopheles was a business man, used to being fed scared but semi-willing victims. He rarely fought. If he did, it was a mere scuffle, well supported by teams of servants, minions, and of course, his Jezza, who could use a curse as easily as her fangs.

Spike loved to fight. He loved to make it as bloody, noisy, and destructive as possible. Which is a bad idea when you're on the run, trying to avoid attention, it's beginning to get light out, and you've only got one weapon to hand.

Meph did however have a cause he was passionate about- protecting his little empire. Nothing drives you like knowing you'll lose everything on the outcome of one battle.

Unless it's the chance to get back all you ever cared about, also in the space of one battle.

Knowing what you have while you have it is good, but knowing you can get back everything you lost, and thinking it'd be the way you always dreamed about it, that's even better.

It's not a huge edge, but it's something.

Spike spat blood from a split lip. _Lips_. That little skull made a nice big "brass knuckle", and Bayou Boy seemed to prefer using his slippery and gaudy accessories more than his fists. Or at least in conjunction with them. _Big ruby rings soddin' hurt. And it would be a radiant cut, all those pesky corners._

However, if you've only got yourself, you're much more resourceful. Spike slammed his opponent into the sliding side hatch door of the dumpster and slid the lid into a tight steel pinion around his neck, tore the cape down and pinned his arms, knotting the silk behind his victim's back. "There. Christmas come early, an' given me a trussed up little turkey."

Meph struggled, but couldn't get his head up, or arms free. His flailing legs did no good, and his stake and blade were trapped in the fabric in such a way he couldn't tear through quickly, though he was trying. Time to do what he did best. Talk.

"Please- don't do this, it's not personal."

"You made it personal when you said I talked like a fishwife." Spike raised his hand.

"You're not my enemy. I told Travers no, I want nothing to do with a Slayer, but - my Jezza, she's my everything, my Queen, my Priestess... If I didn't kill the girl, he said he'd trap us, kill us, or bring the mobs down on us, burn us out..." He tore his head free, jerked it up, leaving deep jagged gouges in his neck which streamed blood. He looked at Spike with desperate eyes. "I am not your enemy. I just couldn't let anything happen to her."

Spike hesitated. Such a familiar story. Travers threatening. And mobs. He hated mobs after what happened to Drusilla in Prague.

"We'll leave. He won't find us. I won't mention your girl, or where you're going."

Stake slowly lowered his hand.

A door creaked open. Spike turned and saw a glimpse of a blonde head, looking around, searching, but of course, she couldn't see him, not down in the muck in back where he was.

Turning was the mistake. With a tearing of silk and a roar, Mephistopheles was free, and charging him from behind.

On the second floor, Buffy opened the door all the way, looked in horror at the large section of missing railing, and put a trembling hand to her mouth as she ran to the stairs.

* * *

"I was gonna let you walk away." Spike growled, cheek planted to the stinking, saturated ground.

"I would have done it, but still... on the run is no guarantee Travers won't find us. This is. Man protects his woman."

"Yep." Spike gave a monstrous heave back with his shoulders, catching the stake well above his heart, high on the left scapula. He howled and turned when he felt the foe fall back a few steps from the force of catching Spike's full weight in the chest. "And I'd rather worry about my woman than yours."

Spike stabbed with the wooden stake, ignoring something that Mephistopheles was screaming, some chant in words that didn't sound exactly French to him, and waited for ash of the fallen vampire to explode. It didn't.

There was a flash of something white and wispy with a gruesome bony form. The ash swept into it, and swept away, like something was carrying it on the wind.

Spike fell back to his knees with a groan. "God, what a wake up call." He heaved his right arm across his chest and reached back, tore the dagger free.

_But it's okay. It's okay now._ He breathed hard, not for the air of course, but to force his injured ribs to move a little, and spat more blood as he dropped the dagger to the ground. _Protected the woman. Saved the Slayer. For Dru's sake, obviously._ The thought that he'd seen Buffy's face flash in his mind before Dru's worried him. _What'd I say? Rather worry about my woman than yours? Bloody hell, was I thinking about-_

* * *

Buffy crashed to the ground beside him, knees to his, and looked around frantically. "Spike! What happened? Who was that? What happened?"

"You were s'posed to stay in the bloody bathroom, in the bloody hotel room, _that's _what happened!" Spike batted her away angrily. "Get off, get off! I'm fine!"

She ignored his protestations, and turned him around and looked at the gashes in his face, the strange squarish marks on his torso, and the hole in his back. "Fine, huh? Just another deer?"

"No, not another soddin' deer." He staggered up, and let her catch him a little. "It's getting light. Let's get in, and get cleaned up. I've been rollin' in filth. We're gonna need to get moving. I know we haven't slept, but-"

"It doesn't matter. I'm surprised no one's here already, wondering why _part of the front of the hotel is in the parking lot_!" Buffy hissed angrily, trailing him.

"In this place? No one's here but us, Slayer. Strictly the night crowd round here. This isn't the place to spend a lazy morning. You pay for your hour or two, you do your deed, you get home before you have to make up a complicated explanation. And the clerk is prolly passed out asleep with a copy of Playboy, or if he's awake this early, he's dancing gleefully in his little glass box because he thinks the massive storm knocked out part of this joint. He can put in an insurance claim and replace the bloody shower curtain and hire a maid."

Buffy sighed and shook her head. Something broken and glittering was kicked into her path as she furtively made her way back to their room. She picked it up.

* * *

Jezza paced and worried and clutched all manner of her charms, praying and cursing as one. Then the wind picked up, the mossy green and black decor of her private room shivered as something seemed to invade.

Only one thing could leave her cold heart yet colder. She knew the sound of her lover coming into her rooms, had many years to get used to it. This noise was him, and yet- not. Which meant- "No. _No_!"

"Shhh, Sugah. Don't got long, Loas don't like to be ridden by demons, anymore than demons like to carry them." Meph- or some grim wisp of him, spoke to her. His mate didn't hear, weeping and wailing. "Hush now, pretty thing, listen... Get out." His spectral form faced her. "Take a few of the servants, an' all the money, and a picture of us all done up fine- oh, an' Mama's broach, and go. Get away, from Travers. Make sure he never finds you, sweet girl..."

"Chere... Meph, no..."

"No, piti bèl, listen to your boy. Run. An' if they catch you tell them they were heading south, to the next state down. But don't let them catch you."

"No need to!" Jezza tried to hold his insubstantial form. "I come with you!"

"I love-"

He had more to say, and so did she, but he was gone, borrowed form combusting in white ashes.

Jezza dropped all her little talismans and charms, and rocked on the floor in an agony of tears and dead heart breaking, fingers scrabbling in the white powder now gracing the thick gray stones of her room. You cannot understand grief that rips away everything you have, so fast.

Sometimes even a century and a half seems too fast.

* * *

"I'm gonna wash off, get dressed, and you'll have to drive, Slayer. But the rain's letting up, sun's comin' out, should be fine." He avoided looking at her. Or the bed. _Were we really just about to? Oh, it'll all be forgotten now, never happen again, never happened to begin with. That's all it'll ever be for us, a couple hours between crises, when we were too bagged to care what the hell we were doing and who we were doing it with._

"Do you want the first aid kit?" Buffy hesitated between the bed and the bathroom. "I can go get it from the car." _Whoa. How can what we were doing twenty minutes ago seem like a weird dream? Did we really? Were we really about to? Whoa._

"I'm fine. Any battle you can walk away from, yeah?" Spike began unzipping his jeans, and paused. _I guess we can do the no clothes thing now. Only it'd be kind of a slap in the face, what we did. Kind of acknowledge we went right off the deep end. Oh, Dru, I'm so sorry. Make it up to you, I promise, never even look at the little blood bag again._

"Spike. Do you want this?" Buffy held out her hand. The broken, bejeweled, dagger rested in her palm. "Came off the mysterious 'deer'- who you will tell me all about in the car, or I won't let you sleep."

He rolled his eyes at the last comment. "I don't need any more weaponry, thanks." He vamped and let his fangs recede the next moment. "Got plenty here."

"I know. But- in case you wanted a trophy. I mean, maybe this wasn't important enough, because you said only for important fights. I- uh, I'll toss it someplace." Buffy backed away.

"Wait. I want it." Spike caught her hand as it fell. Another spark between their skins. _I protected my woman. Nothing more important._ "This was plenty important." He let her fingers close around his, and didn't pick up the knife. "Pack it for me?"

"Sure." Buffy turned.

He shut the door of the loo and turned the hot water on full, stripped down, washed off fast.

_Nothing more important. Nothing more important than saving her._

_ And who do you mean by that? _

_ Well, it'd be an easy choice, obviously. _

"Hey, I have clean clothes for you. I'm leaving them outside the door. I'm going to go start the car... Thank you. For- y'know. Thanks." Her voice was hesitant, and faded with each word.

_She thanks me. Drusilla never realized that you were supposed to. Because it was love, love means, "of course you'll save me". Maybe when you're friends- well, friendly at the moment, you do "thanks for saving me."_

"Don't be stupid. I have your back." He called, and dried off.

"I know. I still wanted to say thanks."

Spike paused in mid toweling. _Slayer thanking me- _me_, or some stupid poncy knife? Ha. I know what the trophy for this fight is._

* * *

"We'll be leaving about nine, Sir."

"Leaving Washington? You've seen the Slayer? You- have her?" Travers put down his afternoon cup of tea with a rattled of china against silver, keeping the shock and worry from his tone.

"We'll be leaving _for _Seattle."

"What exactly do you mean? You were to leave _immediately,_ and I gave that order_ hours _ago." Travers voice was flinty.

"No planes were able to land in Seattle last night. They had inclement weather."

"Why didn't you hire a car, take a train?"

"Well, they didn't offer an estimated time of departure, Sir, and we thought it would be just a few hours of waiting. Traveling over land would have been about twenty hours. By the time we realized, it was really too late to call you at the office."

Their leader made a noise of suppressed annoyance. That was perfectly reasonable. He had to admit that his actions weren't that of a reasonable man, if he couldn't maintain his appearance of stoic calm. "I see. Call when you've reached that house."

* * *

"Thank God you called, I've been going mad." Giles sat at his desk, diligently searching through one of the books on Council Rules of Order. "Did you leave the house?"

"We got out fine. But Travers is on to us- wait a minute- Spike, do I stay on I-5 South?"

"What'd I say ten minutes ago?"

"Just checking! So, yeah, he sent some evil magician guy after us. Messy Toffee Lees, or something. But-"

"Mephistopheles! Cajun, or Southern. Somethin' prissy and dandified." Spike's grouchy and muffled voice reasserted itself.

"Yeah. That. Spike said- you know what, hold on again. Spike. Spike!"

"WHAT?" He barked.

"Take the phone."

"I'm tryin' to sleep!"

"Look, _neither_ of us slept, and _I _have a semi trying to pass me."

The phone was instantly in his possession."If you'd drive above sixty that wouldn't happen." Giles could hear Spike muttering irritably. There was a brief scuffling noise and then Spike's voice said, "Watcher?"

"You're letting her drive?" Giles' voice lowered. "She didn't actually pass her course at the school. She totaled the practice car. The second one in two years. The first one was damaged by a cursed member of the cheerleading squad, which Buffy did help to rescue- though that's beside the point. Goodness. Rambling. There was also a loss of thirteen orange cones throughout the year as well, so they told me."

Under his blankets, Spike ran a hand over his bruised and scratched face. "Felt better before I knew that, actually. But we gotta make time, an' Mr. Sun finally came out. I think we're well away from your man's 'official' trackers. They wouldn't have been able to get in to the state without some sort of magic, tell you that much. Flippin' great storms, hail, rain, the whole show. _We_ had to pull off the road an hour in, an' we were goin' like the hounds of hell were after us."

"Thank the Lord for small mercies." Giles underlined something in his book, and then pulled off his glasses. "Tell me about the other 'unofficial' agent."

"Looked like a combination of a young Bela Lugosi and every hack magician in Vegas. Vamp. Speaks some bastard sorta French I didn't understand too much of, though I recognized one word from all my travels. Said 'Loa' and that's voodoo speak, right?"

"Something to do with calling a spirit, yes." Giles frowned. "Why on earth would Travers pick someone like him? I've never heard of him being a particularly vicious sort, having any particular grudge against Slayers, or desire for glory and recognition."

"Don't think he was. He said he was protecting his 'queen and priestess', didn't want the job, but he didn't have a choice. Wait- you've heard of this joker?"

"Well, Mephistopheles is an unusual name to begin with, and from what you say, it sounds like Mephistopheles La Fonteuil- not his given name. He and his mother came to Louisiana after maintaining a plantation in the Barbaries. They were followers of 'voodoo', although not the mainstream version one sees on the television, but the genuine article. The locals tried to run them out of the area, and I believe they hung the mother, but he escaped. The son fell into company of vampires, but still was a devotee of his old practices. I don't know much about his uh- 'queen' as it were, this Jezebel, although I hardly suppose it's her real name, either. All I know is that she's always been associated with him and also favors his beliefs."

"Very impressive dossier. But _why_ do _you_ know them? _I _don't even know them, an' after a hundred years or so, you get to know most people in your 'social circle'."

"They're a curiosity, I suppose. It was put to the Council years ago that they should be exterminated, send in a Slayer. It was vetoed as they felt the Hellmouth in Cleveland needed a Slayer more urgently. And ever since that point, no slayer has ever not been urgently needed at her own post, no time to take on 'freelance' assignments, as it were. They- as vampires go- are of the more harmless, organized sort. They seem to stay quiet and isolated, I've heard they have willing victims, those who wanted an 'escape' from death. Though the Council doesn't condone that, they _do_ have a priority of fighting for the innocent and unaware first. My father was on the board at the time. I remember him saying something about it. Hm. Travers was on that board as well, second in command. He would have known about them. He would have known they were hardly the ones to suspect- but they'd have a tremendous amount to lose."

Spike closed his eyes. He didn't feel guilt very often, but he had an occasional stab of regret. He had one now. Wouldn't change what he'd done, and he'd do it again. "He didn't care about anything but that girl of his." _Don't I know that feeling._

In the front seat, Buffy cocked her head extra attentively. Spike's voice sounded drained and hollow suddenly.

"Well, that is the most effective thing to bargain with- what the person cares about most." A crooked smile appeared on his stubbled face. "As we well know."

"You know, that guy called Travers _mede_. I agree."

"We can all agree on that."

Buffy turned around completely as Spike chuckled. _Spike laughing? Not a nasty laugh?_ She squinted, as if trying to see under the blanket. Mistake. "Argggh! Oh, sorry! Sorry!" There was a screech. "It's okay. I just crossed the line a little."

"Is everything alright?" Giles demanded.

"Not on fire or upside down in a ditch." Spike muttered through locked teeth. "I find it best to sleep through her driving. You also go through less smokes that way."

More chuckling.

"Well, if that's all the information you have, perhaps I'd better-"

"Oi. He saw our car. He knew- well, roughly knew, at least mentioned -, where we were heading. He found us. We didn't leave a trail, Watcher. Not to anyone who's not a bloody psychic, and Slayer's hidden from hunters with that blue smokey spell. I don't know who, and I don't how, but-"

"That's not quite true. She is hidden from the 'seeker' that the Council employed. The Obscurati works on a specific target for a specific casting. We don't have her cloaked in general. That was the part of the reason for leaving the area. The amount of continuous magical output you'd need to 'hide' someone unceasingly- you'd need a witch with you at all times. A scrying spell, that would be deflected, but say if someone merely wanted to _see_ her, for a second, get an image of her..."

"An image?"

"Maybe in front of something identifying. You said he knew your car. Perhaps-"

"How'd he _find_ the bloody car? No, not the car, Giles, there must be a thousand cars in this make and color, and the plates don't even match. It's _not _the car."

"I've no idea, Spike. But he's dead?"

"As I can make him. Although his ashes floated up, instead of down. New one on me."

"I'll speak to Willow, Wesley, see what I can find out about this, and what we can do to keep her more hidden. In the meantime- stay away from identifying objects if you can, I suppose."

"Like what? Don't drive on the highway, 'cause we pass the signs with names of towns we're goin' through? Don't go get food, because they might see her standing in front of a local paper, or recognize the name of a store?"

_He really is quite adept at thinking quickly._ "I do so hate this entire blasted mess." Giles muttered bitterly.

"No more than me, I'm the one havin' to keep right on top of her." The car jerked violently. Reminders, of things just as soon as forgotten. _I was on top of her. So soft, and sweet, and it was all some confused haze of quiet and desperation. And heat. Wetness._ Fuck._ That urge is back. No urges. Go away. One time deal. _"Yeah, you know what I mean."

Giles paused. "I'd better go. Things are moving along on this end, as well. Take care. Let me speak to- no. No, not while she's driving I'd best not. Tell her I'll call tonight, would you?"

"Will do."

Spike hung up and rested the phone on his chest. "Step on it, Slayer! I can feel the earth's rotation overtakin' us again."

"Why didn't he steal a car with a sunroof?" Buffy gingerly pushed her foot down. "What'd he say?"

"That you totaled a car. An' some innocent traffic equipment. Think he deliberately didn't tell me until after I signed on for this."

"Like that'd matter." Buffy pushed her hair out of her eyes with the hand she dared to release from the wheel for an instant. "Anything else?"

"He's workin' on a way to keep you hidden, an' he's workin' on a way to get us off this working vacation from hell. Same old, same old. Oh, yeah. An' he said goodbye an' take care of yourself."

"Working on it." Buffy said wryly. From the back, she heard that now familiar low chuckle. "So... sounded like you and Giles were having a moment."

"Aren't I allowed to have moments with anyone but you?"_ Sod._

Buffy flushed. _We have moments. We have funny moments and angry moments, and a lot, a lot, a lot of stupid moments. And- other kinds of moments. But that's not going to happen again. _"I heard you laughing, that's all."

He licked his lips. "Oh that's a moment you can share in, Slayer. Mr. Magic, your Watcher, me- we all think Travers is shit."

Buffy laughed. "Wow. Wiggy. Something we can all agree on."

* * *

"This is Travers. I want to speak to your... your master, if that's what you call him."

"The Maison is closed. Madam has left. No readings, no bone castin', and no more clients, save your money." A brisk voice replied.

"Madam? I want Mephistopheles."

"He gone."

"Bastard little charlatan!" Travers hissed and thumped his fist down.

"Show respect for the departed! Or Madam take your eyes, for earrings." The voice said with sinister glee.

"He's dead? And the female is gone?"

"She said a man might call who want to know where she go- she leave a message."

"What's that? What's the message?"

"She say two things. You head south to look for your prey. South of where you sent him."

"South." Travers muttered. "The other?"

"She say she'll see you. Real soon."

* * *

"It's going to be dark soon." Buffy got back in the car and threw a few bags of chips and a soda into the back seat.

"If you don't step on it, we're going to be tryin' to find our way in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere.

"If we hadn't had to leave at eight in the morning instead of one in the afternoon, you could be driving this part."

"I could be driving this part if you hadn't managed to get us hunted."

"Well... I hate mountains! Whenever we pass one of those elevation signs I just feel like I have to puke. Do you know how high up we are?"

"Would rather not. Every inch up is an inch closer to the sun." Spike poked his head out, shades on. Dim enough in the back, provided he kept his blanket to hand. "Five thousand feet!" He yelped when he saw the next elevation sign.

"And nothing but trees, trees, trees, gas station, rest stop, trees, trees, and trees." Buffy shuddered at the thought of their just completed pit stop. "You should be really glad you don't have working kidneys right now."

"Screw the tinkling, how am I s'posed to eat? There's not gonna be a butcher's to hand!"

"There has to be some wild animal population up here. The human population certainly seems a little thin, and there has to be _something_ up here besides trees!"

Spike was silent. "Ruddy twitchy deer... they look harmless you know, but they've got spines like bungee cord. Get it round the neck and you find yourself starin' at its tail end, hooves in your teeth."

"You can borrow my crossbow, okay?"

"Crossbow?"

"Yeah. If you have to...hunt. But leave the bodies where I won't see them, okay? I'm going to have go make massive donations to the Bambi Society after this trip. If I live through it."

"Crossbow?" Spike sounded slightly angry and deeply confused.

"What about it?"

"I never thought about that. I just always- when you hunt, you just-" he vamped and raised his hands. "Grr! Y'know?"

"Hey, if it helps humans, it can help you, right? Weren't you the one saying not everything changes when you turn?"

She turned to look at him, a half-smile, a sweet one, a laughing one on her face, a twinkle in those green eyes.

He was glad for his eyewear just then. They hid the answering flash in his own eyes, a warmth that shouldn't be there. "True." He coughed. "Pull off soon. Sun's settin'. I'll drive. You sleep. Wake you when we get there."

"Okay." She agreed quickly, eager to be done driving, and done being awake.

"You're still gonna have to help read the directions. We'll be off the highway soon, and I have no idea what I'm doing." He reached past her shoulder, leaning forward to take the map from her lap.

His arm pressed the side of her chest, cool cheek on cord covered shoulder.

_Bugger it. Urge is still there._

_ Oh no. Seriously? _Her insides gave a lusty squirm.

"Never mind. I got this- uh- I- I'll wake you when we get there." Spike mumbled.

* * *

"Slayer?" Spike said grimly.

"Hmm?" She'd fought sleep for as long as she could, but as the winding forest roads and mountain roads and reserve roads seemed to go on forever, she eventually crashed.

"I said I'd wake you. I don't want to. But I heard if you leave a human in the car all night with the windows up they run out of air or somethin'. Or was that dogs? Slayer, you ever heard of-"

"What. _Is_. It?" Buffy was wide awake, awake with the kind of annoyed alertness only Spike could provide.

"Welcome to our home sweet home." Spike swung himself out of the car, and Buffy, stretching, and wincing as she moved her long cramped muscles, followed him.

"Uh- where?" Buffy stared into darkness.

"Nice, huh? They don't believe in outdoor lighting. But- I've got the key, I got the rental agreement in my pocket, and I got groceries ordered, shipped to the ranger station. First batch is here tomorrow, they'll call us, or we'll go down after noon."

"Where's the _house_?" She clarified.

"Keep walkin'." He sighed. He'd already been in. He'd come back out, quickly. "Go through all the pines, mind the very large hole on your left hand side, and -"

"That's the house?" Buffy frowned.

"Word is cabin. I think out here, cabin is the term for 'cottage with rustic log front."

"It's the term for 'big closet with rustic log front'." Buffy walked up the slanting hand hewn steps and onto an uneven front porch.

"It's not that bad. I had a quick scout round."

Buffy nodded, shook out her stiff neck and muscles. "You're right. I'm overreacting. This is perfect. It's..." She allowed Spike to show her in, turning on the lights. "It's not your typical 'look for Buffy here' spot." The floors were wood, the walls were log, the kitchen seemed to bleed into the living room with ugly white plaster finish walls over a very small stove and steel sink, topped off with wood finish cabinets.

"Not my choice either. But- it's got lights, it's got a lock, it's in the middle of nowhere, and the water works- although the ranger man said we need to leave it run for thirty minutes, and it'll always run brown first thing in the morning."

Buffy's eyes widened. "Why?"

"Rust. Sediment. I dunno, really."

"Oh, that's really comforting." Buffy shook herself again. "But it's no big deal. Thirty minutes to clear, we can handle that."

"Right. I'll go get all the bags."

"I'll help."

"No, no that's okay. You- you- uh-you settle in." Spike disappeared, backwards, out of the front door.

"That's really- okay." Buffy watched him quizzically as he left her view. "That's really not like you at all." She mumbled to herself.

She walked through the rest of the place. Bathroom. Rusty brown streaks on the simple white tub and in the sink. _From the water, no big_. Shower curtain. Plaid. _All the curtains in here are plaid. Who in the world would make plaid curtains? I wonder if that's a sign of mental illness, like wanting to be a florist? _

Living room. Wood, wood, and more wood, big, huge ugly blue couch and rocking chairs. Big surprise, also wooden. A television and a stack of magazines and paperbacks on the shelf under it. A fireplace._ That's nice. Romantic. Crackling fire, cuddled up on the couch and- sparks flying out. Whole house is wooden. Guy I was cuddling with would be flammable. Spike is the co-cuddler in this scenario. This is just a bad, bad thought. Let's move on._

Bedrooms. Well, that didn't help the thoughts, but oh God did she need sleep. First bedroom. Nice enough. Big window- and yay! _Blue _plaid curtains, not red. Big fluffy pillows. Slightly musty smelling sheets and a comfy comforter. _Ooh, and a second little television. This is the high life. I call this one for mine. Unless the other one is better._

Buffy walked back down the small hallway, checking in the closet, ignoring the sporting and boating paraphernalia, and made her way up the stairs.

_That's weird._ The stairs lead to a low slung loft, floor and roof bearing traces of last night's storm in the puddles on the floor. The room was empty. It wasn't even a room. It was a crawl space.

"Where's the second bedroom?" Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and her face took on a martyred expression. "SPIIIIIIKE!"

* * *

Standing on he porch, all the bags at his side, Spike took a long drag on his cig. "Knew there was one question I forgot to ask that rental bloke." Her shrill scream repeated itself. He looked at the moon through the scudding clouds. "Five minutes, give or take. Damn, thought it'd take a little longer."

A rectangle of light backlit him and a small but firm hand yanked him inside by the collar. "Oi!"

"Oi is right! Spike, this place only has one bedroom, did you know that?" Buffy demanded in a high-pitched hiss.

"I forgot to check! Okay? I asked about water, and telly, and food, I asked about the power, I got directions- sort of. I found the effin' place, I can't do everything." He shouted in reply.

Buffy backed up, and calmed down. "You're right. You did so much. Thank you."

Spike blinked. And waited. _Onslaught? Cue the bratty valley girl._ "But?"

"No buts. There's a couch, I'll just-_ we'll_ just take turns."

"I don't need the privacy. No frillies. You can have the bedroom."

"Well... not like we sleep at the same times." _Only we did. So we wouldn't be so bored and so lonely. I guess we could get used to daytime/ nighttime shifts again..._

"Right." Spike nodded. "Yeah, so."

"So. We need to unpack."

"Gotta hunt."

"Right. I can make another peanut butter sandwich. And there's soda."

"Sounds good."

"Right."

"Yep."

They parted.

_This is stupid. We got so close. _

_ Close was bad._

_ Not _that _bad._

* * *

Buffy sat up, shaking and looking around frantically, sure she'd woken from a bad dream. But no. Weird sounds were real. There was- howling? _That's okay. Wolves. Regular wolves. Not like werewolves. _

"Ah-oooooooowww!"

_I hate that sound anyway._

* * *

Spike paused in the bathroom, washing pine needles and bits of fur from himself. _Wolves? Do they have wolves out here? _ Another howl answered that.

_Oh fun. Let's play pioneers._ I avoided this country during that time period for a reason.

_I wonder if she slept through it. _He listened. _Heart rates says no._

* * *

Buffy watched the handle turn. Her fingers gripped a stake.

A tap. "Slayer?"

"Hi, I'm up, come in." She said quickly, too quickly._ I can't help it. I'm a superhero. I'm still allowed to be spooked. I bet you anything Batman was afraid of spiders or rats or something._

Spike sauntered in, shirtless and bruised but healing rapidly now after draining what was either an elk or a moose- he didn't know the difference. "Sounds like we've got company. Just the furry kind."

"Not a fun soundtrack for sleep." Buggy hugged her knees and watched him hover at the foot of the bed.

"Haven't tried yet. Flipped through the stations. We get a static-y version of the ten o'clock film from the Spanish channel." He smirked.

"Cool. Too bad we don't have a dictionary anymore."

Spike coughed. "Well... they had so many of 'em in the reference section, I thought they wouldn't miss one."

She was past him like a shot. "Is it the sequel? They were supposed to be showing the sequel, _Stefan y Maria, el Nuevo Viaje _tonight, right? They were hyping this all week."

He followed her out. "I saw previews for it when I came in- oh, don't look at your crossbow, I'll clean it later. I already started looking stuff up. Viaje means trip."

"Ooh, I wonder if this is like Lampoons Vacation movies."

"Are you kidding? With those two? You'd better bring your hankie."

"I wonder if Tomas broke out of prison."

"It wouldn't surprise me..."

They were sitting on the couch in seconds, dictionary between them, although they sat side by side instead of as far apart as humanly- or otherwise- possible.

They relaxed.

_Things are back to normal. Ish._

* * *

_Day Fourteen..._

"Come on. Come on, let Spike lift you up and- stop swingin' Slayer, this is no time for friendly fire." Spike lifted the sleeping girl as evenly as possible, despite the fact that her reaction to being touched while asleep was to punch. The movie had ended, and she'd fallen asleep during the credits. For awhile he just stared at her. Then he coughed and hummed. Then he'd tried nudging. No good. So now he was trying to deposit her back in her room.

"I can walk." Buffy mumbled unconvincingly, realizing what was going on.

"Yes, I know. An' you will. Later." He shouldered the door open, knocking her knees into it in the process.

"Smooth, Spike."

"Shut up. You're s'posed to be too out of it to criticize."

"Me? Not criticize you? I'd have to be in a coma." Buffy chuckled and laid her head on his shoulder before realizing that was wrong.

He resisted the yearning to nuzzle that head leaning on him, and kiss her. Kiss her nice and long, like he had, just about twenty four hours ago. They said they'd never think about it. Who were they kidding? He set her down softly, and they locked eyes. Said nothing. Finally he nodded jerkily, forced a smile and murmured, "Night."

"Night. Um. Sleep tight."

"You too."

* * *

_An hour later..._

Buffy sat up again, dark circles definitely under her eyes now. That thud again. "Spike?" She tiptoed across her floor, calling softly.

"Go back to bed, it's nothing." Spike caught her eye as she entered the living room.

"I heard this thud, three times. I thought maybe someone was trying to- why are you on the floor?"

"I keep rollin' off, okay?" He admitted sheepishly. "I'm not usually much of a mover, but I guess I am tonight. Restless." _No, because I never rolled when I had someone beside me and then I got used to bein' alone. But let me have someone next to me, just once and I'm back to my old habits. Can't sleep without her- I mean, without Dru- next to me._

"Oh." She hesitated. She could offer. It would be nice. "Wanna switch?"

"No. No, you look peaky. You look dead beat, in fact. You should go lay down." He waved her off and clambered back onto the couch.

She nodded, and he heard her softly close the door behind her.

* * *

_Twenty minutes later..._

Thud.

"O-kay, that does it." Buffy didn't have the energy to move, but shouting was different. "Spike!"

"What?"

"Come here." She moved over to the far side, and sighed.

"If it's another spider, kill it yourself!"

"It's not a spider!" She did sit up and check though. Nope.

Spike stalked into her room, glowering, shirtless and sockless, and hair with a distinctly ungelled sideways slant. "What is it?"

"Come here." Buffy roughly hit the pillow next to her, and laid on her side, facing away from him.

Spike frowned, curled and uncurled his fists, and walked closer to the bed. "Okay, I'm _here_. Now what do you want?"

She closed her eyes , but rolled them underneath._ Really? Make me spell it out and put limits on it and everything? Of course he would._ "I want you to sleep here- for tonight- because I'm tired of hearing 'thud' every time I'm about to finally get to sleep, and waking back up."

"I dunno if-"

"Look, tomorrow, I'll sleep on the couch, you sleep here, but for right now- if I have to move again, it'll be to knock you out. So that's your choice. Unconscious. Or sleep where you have some room to sprawl out, or at least crash into something that's not going to give."

He laughed silently, briefly, and sank down. Could see her stiffen as she felt his weight indent the mattress. "Such generosity- with a side of threats. I like your style, Luv."

"Yeah, well- I mean it. I'm not moving except for violence. So this is just to sleep. No big deal. Just sleep." She insisted firmly, even though inside she was worrying herself sick.

"I get it. Relax. Not gonna fang out on you." He eased down slowly, back to back. Easier if he didn't look at her.

_That was the least of my worries. Isn't _that _a sad statement of the reality check requirements? _"I know that. Not like we haven't shared the same bed before."

_Shared a bed. Oh hell. Twice. Never meant to do that with anyone but Dru._ He rolled abruptly on his back. "What a bloody mess." He murmured to the ceiling.

Buffy exhaled. "Majorly."

Still not such a bad one to get stuck with. In terms of fights and- well other compensation. "Could be worse. Yeah?"

"Mhm." Buffy felt herself relaxing slightly, the sound of his voice, the feeling of him next to her- knowing when she woke up he'd still be there, or still be nearby- and still be the same guy, same bad guy. With tolerable moments.

"We got out of a couple scrapes. There's a lake. We can prolly skip stones again. An' crossbows make catching dinner a hell of a lot easier." He rolled to his side, facing her after all. "We still got the Spanish channel. Should've nicked the chess set."

"Mmm." Buffy murmured dreamily, blinking slowly.

"We're gonna be home soon. Sounds like things are in motion, doesn't it?" No reply. "Back to Dru... gonna sort things out. But," Why'd she have to have such golden, silky hair, right in his face? Why'd she have to give off heat like a sauna? "This is okay. You an' me. For now. Init?"

Hazy, sleeping brain signals she was too tired to piece together. _Sad. Beside you. Fix it. Sleep._

Spike held in a burst of noise as she flopped over, arm slapped across his chest, head carelessly snuggling in.

"Take that as a yes."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	14. Chapter 14

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Okay, because some people keep mentioning this in reviews, and then they have their private messaging turned off, meaning I can't answer them, I'm going to share my reasoning here. If you don't care, feel free to jump to the fic, I won't blame you!_

_Point: Buffy dying won't call a new Slayer._

_Counterpoint: Why not? After Buffy died in season one, she didn't lose her powers. She was still a slayer. If she died again, a slayer still dies, her power still passes._

_Point: But after her death in season five, a new Slayer wasn't called._

_Counterpoint: This is non-canon season three, so Buffy hasn't "died" and stayed dead yet, so we don't really know what will happen. Just have fun with the plot._

_Author's Second Note: Wordy and plot heavy, but it's the last chapter for a while that is so convoluted. Smut happens in the next chapter, hang in there!_

_Author's Final Note: I'm going through a very rough patch in my life. I apologize for the future delay in chapters, or shorter chapter lengths. I do appreciate your continued support._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of show's dialogue will be used._

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Cosmiclove, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Sirius120, ShyL, micmoc, Alottalove, Embers and Flames, ammuna, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, SanityFair, Sushibar, jackiemack916,Touch the Dark, ValidescopeWest, Mike13z50, Rachel, Cavementftw, ammuna, LunaML, Clara Johnson, DragonMouse, Nosurprises, Blade Redwind and Hulettwyo._

_More and more people keep reviewing for this piece! You are making my days, weeks, and months, folks! Much love and gratitude._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XIV**

_Day Fourteen..._

This was the absolute best feeling in the world. Buffy sighed in her sleep, felt warmth touching her through the window's filtered sunlight, and felt coolness under her cheek.

Spike responded to what he felt in his semi-hibernated state. Warmth. Life. Familiar aromas. Smirked a little in his sleep and held it closer.

Wetness started to seep from her, but she didn't know why. Something primal that kept trying to give her the shove to wake up. Something that screamed "danger" and "enemy". Something that had been muted to simply "caution advised".

Could be the way arms locked around her waist, and the way a hand firmly redirected her drowsy head as she tried to raise it. The husky voice mumbling, "Not dark out yet, Baby, stay in bed."

That didn't make sense. Her brain knew that. It short circuited anyway, and ignored the message to investigate the matter.

Spike huddled deeper into the hot little nest. She'd never felt so good. Made all of him relax. He had rarely been relaxed with her, always worrying about her, or worrying for her. What she'd do next, what she'd already done, what would happen if she didn't come back, or if she came back injured. "You're so warm, Princess. You just eat?"

"No..." Buffy giggled, and burrowed into hard skin. Angel never called her princess before. Or baby. Or asked if she'd eaten. So this wasn't right. Her lids stayed shut but her eyebrows began to lift. "Angel?"

Even mostly asleep it tore through him, burnt him. "How the hell can you still want him after what he did to you?" He came angrily to his senses, shouting and shoving her back as his eyes flew open.

"What are you-" Buffy's lids parted instantly.

"Buffy!"

"Spike!"

"Oh my God! Were we-"

"Thought you were Dru, I swear, I thought-"

Two figures scrambled off on opposite sides of the bed and stared, wide eyed, disgusted. "How could you?" Buffy demanded.

"You said his name, I didn't bring it up!" Spike protested, hand on his chest.

"Of course I still want him, I love him!" Buffy spat.

"I wasn't talking about you! I was talking about Dru!"

"You were thinking of her?"

"You thought of him, didn't you?"

"Duh!"

"Of course, who the hell else would I think of?"

Tempers flared- and cooled slightly. "Oh."

"Right." Spike nodded curtly. "Bit of- confusion."

"I wasn't awake."

"Neither was I!"

"So... good." Buffy marched out of the room, heading towards the bathroom.

"Uh. Yeah. Good."

Buffy locked herself in the bathroom, and jumped back when she turned on the tap and brown water splurted everywhere. "Oh boy," she told her reflection, "it's gonna be a really great day."

* * *

"I didn't expect to find you after only a few days." Spears entered the basement apartment with obnoxious aplomb.

"You'd better leave. I have a soul, but I still can throw trespassers out." Angel looked over his intruder. "You're pretty short, I could get a nice spiral on you." Angel said, grabbing the interloper by the back of his pressed black suit.

"Of course you can. Only, you see, I'm not a trespasser. I'm merely here to offer my deepest sympathies." Spears humbly bowed.

Angel froze. "I don't know you. It seems like a lot of trouble for you to look for me for days, just to offer your condolences."

"Well, it's part of my duty."

_It's a bluff. He's talking about Buffy. How'd he find me? Doesn't matter. _"Uh huh. Well. Thanks." Angel turned him towards the door. "Bye."

"Goodbye." Spears bowed again. "We Watchers do want you to know- we _are _sorry. She was a wonderful girl. Though it is still our position that we do not associate with vampires, regardless of soul status, you were certainly of use in preventing this most recent coup in Sunnydale. We hope you'll offer the new Slayer your continued assistance."

_Don't rise to the bait. Don't rise._ "I'm done with slayers. She was- she wasn't just a slayer to me. She was the only one I'll ever love- ever loved." Angel murmured.

Spears hesitated. The pain and longing, the regret in him... So genuine. But you can't trust demons. Even ones who claim to be "reformed" in some way.

"I understand. However, your quest for redemption is admirable. If you should change your mind, you can get in touch with her through her Watcher, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. I believe you know him?" He waited for Angel to acknowledge him, but he simply stared, eyes unblinking, black, and frozen. Spears was playing a dangerous game, but he continued to play, unfazed. "She should arrive tomorrow, perhaps the day after. Well. It is a sad business, but not uncommon, unfortunately." He tipped his hat yet again, making as if to withdraw.

_It's all a bluff. But why's he bluffing, aren't _we _bluffing them? No. No, oh God, it could be real. _Sometimes guilt in abundance skews one's judgement._ It might be real. This might be _real._ They could have gotten to her, Giles said they were trying. He said not to say anything. _

"Was there something else?" Spears asked as Angel's grip loosened, but his hand still remained outstretched.

_ I could have stopped it. I should have run with her, I should have helped her. Oh God. No. No! _Pain stabbed him, unrelenting and deeper than he'd thought possible. _Stop it. Calm. Inhale. Exhale. Right, no breath. Just let him know you know he's not going to rattle you. _

_ Do I act grief stricken? I would. I should. _

But sometimes grief- grief you have that isn't pretend, fights with denial. _I shouldn't have let her go. But I had to. Should have protected her, and if it's real... It's my fault. So it can't be real._

"No. Nothing else. Leave me alone. All of you. I won't be working with a slayer, ever again. I worked with Buffy. _Buffy_." He clarified firmly, something suddenly bright in his eye.

_This is the one they called Angelus. The most hated and feared. Can the monster be grieving? Or merely shedding crocodile tears? Well, time to find out. Let's just detonate this glaring time bomb, shall we?_

"I'm sorry to intrude on your grief. I mean no offense." This wasn't close enough to the mark apparently. "Oh- I spoke to Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. He couldn't find your contact information-"

"That's the way it was supposed to be." Angel growled.

"But he did ask me to tell you they'll be bringing the body back, services will be held on-"

Snap. Boom. "_What_?"

Spears gave him a sympathetic smile and murmured, "Shall I tell them to expect you?" A truly well bred and accomplished liar, he maintained his silence after that, knowing he had sown enough seeds to bear some sort of fruit.

"I don't- but... she was... no, Giles would have t-" Angel fumbled for words, and then shut his mouth swiftly when he saw a tiny triumphant smile flash to life on Spears' face, and just as quickly disappear.

"Good morning." Spears bowed himself out of the apartment gracefully- than ran like hell.

Angel tore after him, up the stairs, out into the morning sun, not caring for the pain as the light hit him, only caring that he said something, something to make that little worm smirk. Smirk like he suddenly had a piece of puzzle he'd been looking for. _She's alive. She's alive and I screwed it up, and if she dies now, it's all my fault! _

_ No matter what, things are my fault._

"Whoa, man, whoa! You're burstin' into flames there, Angel!" Doyle, a recent acquaintance, and apparent asset to his path for atonement, caught the vampire by the arm and hauled the flaming creature back under the shadow of the building. In the street, women screamed, watching a man running as fire seemed to erupt on his skin. Spears was already driving away.

"Get off of me! Get off of me, I have to stop that guy!"

"How? By turning into a pile of ash in front of frightened women?"

"You don't understand!" Angel shoved him away. Half charred, the pain on his body was no match for the pain inside it. "What'd I do? Damn it! I have to make a call, Doyle, so stay out of my way!"

* * *

"I found him, and secured the information, at great personal risk to myself, Sir." Spears spoke in a self-congratulatory tone.

"Yes, yes, well done. She's with him?"

"No, he's living in a small basement flat in a seedy area of Los Angeles. Alone. I was able to get in the apartment itself. I dropped the information that we had a new slayer coming, and expressed my condolences for the old one's passing. I even said Pryce had been searching for him, mentioned services that were to be held. He took the bait. He implicated Rupert Giles."

Oh Christmas, Boxing Day, and Bank Holiday all in one. "What? How? What did he say?" Travers demanded eagerly.

"He said 'Giles would have-' and then realized his error. But it was plain to see he was about to say 'Giles would have protected her', or Giles would have let him know, or done something. He acted as if he knew all along that she was alive, in hiding. As if her former Watcher knew it as well."

Travers felt his eagerness diminish. Then turn to anger. "That's it? That's_ all_?"

"Well, surely that-"

"There are a thousand ways that sentence could be completed! Even if he was about to say either of those things that you've concocted, that is what anyone who knew of the close relationship between Rupert Giles and his Slayer would say! They would immediately refuse to believe he, as the over-involved Watcher he was, would allow anything to happen to the girl he loved as a daughter! He was expressing disbelief for _something _involving Rupert Giles and that's _all _you can infer from that partial sentence."

"Well- erm. He could have been expressing either, culpability or-"

"You cannot expect us to take a viable lead from that. You- you've always been overeager, Spears. Like a pathetic dog, bringing the master any old bone when he sends you for something specific." But that was why he picked him to search for Angelus. This agent was eager to succeed to the point of ruthlessness while still being obedient and giving the air of appropriate behavior, doing anything commanded. "You also spread a false story that we have another slayer arriving? That there is a funeral - a second one- planned?"

"He wouldn't crack, Sir, unless I played on his emotions a bit more." Spears informed him.

"He STILL didn't crack! He said_ one word_ that may mean something, but most likely does not. Why did you leave, why didn't you interrogate him further?"

"He's a vampire, Sir, he could've killed me."

_And so may I._ "You've compromised everything. If Giles wasn't involved in something questionable, he will most certainly start suspecting that _we_ are. What's worse, you've left Angelus alive, and he may contact her friends, her family... _Everyone._ If they are in contact with her, they'll tell her. The girl will be driven farther into hiding. If they aren't in contact, we're about to have a massive issue on our hands when Giles hears from the vampire that we've found her body and a new slayer is arriving!"

"A lie to a vampire is nothing to concern ourselves with, surely. And Rupert Giles- he's a disgraced member, a former member, who would listen to him?" Spears began to sweat. "You told me to say whatever I needed to. I was following your orders!"

Travers' voice lost its rage, returned to a flat and emotionless timbre."You showed poor judgement. You didn't follow through. You have put us in a most untenable position. Spears- you're withdrawn. Get back to London." Travers hung up, seething quietly. He'd have to have him eliminated.

_Implications indeed. And as if you could trust a vampire. No good searching for the girl with him anyway, even if they'd been on completely the wrong track and she was hidden all the time- the vampire was warned now._

_ They apparently were hiding in one of Giles' old friend's homes, her and one other, whether it was Angelus or not._

_ She must be found. _

_ Rupert Giles must be kept away from those who might care to investigate the matter. _

Travers sighed._ Heavy lies the head that wears the crown..._

_ This is the whole problem with having anyone else involved. That's why there is but one god per realm. The more you lose control of your power, the more you lose control, full stop. _

Travers picked up his elegant receiver and pressed the extension to an office seldom used. "Collins?"

"Sir?"

"Spears. Remove him. Nothing flashy. A suicide, if you would."

"Very good, Sir."

Travers sighed again. He'd keep MacAndrews and Gervais chasing phantoms and trails, he'd discredit spears, and the only one knew of his true intentions would be Wyndham-Pryce. Spears was too eager to be successful- Pryce was simply eager not to be publicly humiliated. That was the key difference, and he should have considered it when appointing Spears to look for the vampire.

No matter. He would spread some discrediting rumors about Spears going rogue, making up implausible tales, a desperate but unstable man. When the Council heard of his permanent removal, they'd understand, suicide, or execution, it makes no difference. You mustn't have someone like that handling such delicate tasks- if they might have enough backbone to start questioning your motives.

A click, and another dial, this time the extension directed him to the one secretary- or bookkeeper, whatever little clerical service person she was- he knew was already involved.

"Finance and Records, this is Eugenia spe -"

"Yes, I want you to do something for me." He snapped off impatiently.

"Of course, Mr. Travers."

"I want you to put a trace on Rupert Giles visa and passport. If he tries to leave the United States, or even to fly in within it, I want to be notified."

"I see." Ginny said slowly, trying to mask the sudden trepidation she felt. "I'm sorry, he's not coming up in the active files, so I can't really-"

"Simply go retrieve his information from inactive status and set the trace. It's only temporary."

"But-"

"We don't need to discuss it. You needn't discuss it with _anyone_. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Because if I cannot trust my staff to keep confidential matters confidential- their services will be terminated. Clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

Ginny winced at the sharp click in her ear, and then punched in another number with shaking white hands.

"Hullo, Lover."

"Robbie, listen. Is Rupert planning to- travel?"

"Why?" Robson asked guardedly.

"Don't start pulling that suspicious shit on me, Robbie. Or this ring comes right off."

"Darling, please, this is no time for hysterics."

"Oh, I'm nowhere near hysterics, though I should be. I'm trying to _warn_ you- Travers just asked me to keep a trace on his visa and passport."

"Well for heaven's sake _don't._" Robson hated putting her in the middle of this. If Travers ever found out about her helping them... Widowed before a groom.

"Thank you, Darling, I wasn't planning to, but I needed to tell you! Is he on the run? Is he traveling?"

"Ah- no." Robson lied, safer not to speak the truth while talking to her at Council headquarters. The truth was, after researching and calling around, they'd found a few other members of the Council who they trusted, and who wanted to hear "interesting perspectives on current Council policies", was they way they'd phrased it. Should they be able to raise a group of six, they could call for a closed hearing of evidence from the full board- minus the one in question. If they found a need for further investigation, the "accused" would be informed. Rupert would have to come to England to give his evidence, and soon, as in this week.

"Right. That's the tone of voice you use when you tell me you've sorted out dinner and all it means is you've left money for take away." She bit her lip and looked over her shoulder. The best way of doing something behind the boss's back was to do it at once. In a few moments, if possible, before they had time to pop down and check in one you. Still, something was far wrong, and had been getting more and more so. "Look, I'll take care of it. But add this to the list of unusual things. And then- Robbie, I think I have to stop helping until whatever this is is over."

"You're a jewel for doing anything at all."

"I know, and you're lucky to have me." She smiled faintly.

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

"Be careful."

"You be doubly so, my girl."

They hung up, Ginny turning back to her files and computers, and Robson to Aberswyth.

* * *

_Hmm. United Kingdom passport, England, # 31- _Ginny punched Giles' passport number carefully, entering one digit at a time. Except the last digit. That she deliberately made one higher, entering a nine instead of an eight at the end. Her database brought up the option to view details. She looked around. Her superior wasn't around, nor were any of the other clerical staff. She quickly hit the button.

"Mr. Brompton of Falcon Head, retired literature teacher- hasn't used his passport since 1979. That seems fairly safe." She ended her session with the touch of her mouse and went back to her filing, humming softly. This was a simple, single slip of a finger. A minor mistake on an inactive agent that no one would ever think to question her about. Travers would only look into it should there be movement. She smiled slightly as she considered the fact that Travers would likely be waiting a long time before he saw any movement on this particular quarry.

* * *

"What's the problem today?" Abby put down his paper and flicked cigarette ash haphazardly over the edge of their hotel end table.

"Travers wants a trace on Giles' passport."

"Shit. Still- that's fairly suspicious behavior for Travers, a man not involved in anything 'suspicious'."

"Oh, evidence-wise, this is lovely. Mucking about with an inactive member's personal life for no apparent reason? Horribly bad form. Getting Rupert over to testify, however...

"We ought to try to get things in motion today, while MacAndrews and Gervais are off his tail."

* * *

_Mid-Afternoon..._

"Excuse me! What are you doing? This is private property. Beth, get your mace!"

"Oh, no need!" MacAndrews stepped neatly from the side of the house, and tipped his hat. "We're just friends of Mr. Edmundson. We were in the neighborhood, and decided to drop in. Looks as though he's not home."

Paul looked at them suspiciously. "If you're friends, shouldn't you have known that? If you're friends, why were you poking around the yard?"

"Well, we had business in Seattle, decided to drive up."

"Down. Drive down." Gervais corrected hastily. "He didn't answer his phone, but as we'd come all this way, we thought we'd just see if he was in the yard. but then- you know Geoffrey. Always out and about."

Beth looked suspicious as well. "He likes to stay home. Or at the museum."

"That's what we meant. Slave to his work. He's still on that lecture tour, of course. I told you we should have called Rupert Giles before we came. He would know Geoff's schedule."

Beth and Paul exchanged a glance, and a hesitant smile. "Do you know them?"

"Them?" MacAndrews looked confused before Gervais discreetly elbowed him. "Oh- oh. Yes. His- um- young friend."

"Friend?"

"Shortish? Female, dark blondish brown, green eyes, no distinguishing marks, weighs about-" Gervais elbowed him harder as his colleague launched into her official description.

"Becky!" Beth beamed.

Paul got a knowing look. "Ah ha. _Friend_. No wonder they called themselves the Johnsons. Geoff told us he wasn't using his real name."

"Becky Johnson and Rupert Johnson? Ha, those- little devils." Gervais pieced it together quickly and tried to laugh.

"But Rupert's in-"

"Oh, no, he still wanted to be called Giles. Nice fella. Pale, but nice."

"Pale?"

"Well... no offense. A lot of you English types are pale compared to the locals around here. I work with the fishing commission, so I'm out on boats all the time." He shrugged. "No offense." He repeated.

"Oh, sweetie, you don't think they were married? They seemed so happy together. I think they were."

"Could be."

"We'd always received the impression our friend was destined for bachelorhood. Waiting as long as he has..." Gervais fished for clues to the male's age. The wife took the bait.

"He couldn't have been more than thirty!" Beth poo-pooed them with a wave of her hand. "I think it's better to wait a few years, myself. Mid twenties, late twenties. Becky seemed young for it, but when you know, you know. Our niece-"

"I'm sure. My goodness, here we are chatting away, and all we wanted to do was pop in on Geoffrey. Oh, but if Giles and -Becky- are around, we'd love to see them, too. Old friends. Giles, that is."

Paul and Beth exchanged a look. "They left. Becky was sick."

Beth smiled broadly and leaned forward, dropping her voice, "I think she might be-"

"Beth!"

"Sorry, sorry. My husband," she cast a long suffering look at Paul, "thinks because I'm intuitive that I'm 'nosy'."

"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing more than neighborly kindness, ma'am." MacAndrews smarmed. Gervais winced internally and smiled his sincere yet insincere smile as they backed up a few steps.

"We'll have to see if we can catch up to them. Ha," he chuckled aloud, although giving the impression he was more wondering to himself, "I wonder if he's still puttering about in the old Citroen?" _Come along, be good oblivious little Americans. _

Paul shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint you, friend. Just going around in a nice late model Buick. Missing the hood ornament, but I'm pretty sure it was a Buick. Sorta dark color. Not that I saw it for more'n a minute, passing down the street."

"That's not a color, Paul. 'Dark'? Honestly. It was-"

"You don't know colors, woman."

"I know colors better than you. You can't even tell your navy socks from your black socks."

"Beth, you're the one who-"

MacAndrews and Gervais left the couple arguing good naturedly on the front porch, and drove off, back towards Seattle, back to the airport.

"Someone claimed to be him."

"Used his name in some form."

"It couldn't have been him. Under thirty. He's certainly vigorous, but he'd never pass for a man in his twenties."

"No, definitely not him. And pale. Hm."

"Pale seems significant in this case, I admit."

"They said she was sick."

"They also said they acted happy together."

"That makes no sense."

"You think she's been taken by that vampire?"

"Perhaps he's drugging her."

"Slayer bodies work through most toxins."

"Not if the dosage is continually applied. Say in each meal."

"This is dreadful. Have we ever had a situation like this before?"

"There was that girl in the eighteen forties. Kidnapped from a railway line."

"Didn't she end up overturning a coal car?"

"As I said- this makes no sense."

"Call Travers."

* * *

"No, it isn't Angelus. I've just had Spears confirm a sighting of him in LA. Verbal, visual, and physical, if you listen to him whining on."

"Well if it isn't Angelus and it isn't Rupert, who is it?"

"It's some other pale man who's apparently under thirty. An unknown player. Possibly human, possibly vampire."

"Then what should we do?"

Travers hastily calculated a number of variables in his head. They had a direction, a vague description, possible aliases, a car model- a possible color, or shade at least, as well. They had a disagreement over Giles' involvement or not.

One thing he was sure of, one absolutely clear factor that was in no way to be tampered with, was that fact that she must be found. And killed. The more time that this horrible farce went on, the more people that were involved, the harder it would be to keep a quiet little assassination looking like an accident. Should this turn into a manhunt, involving local police, circulating photos and putting out those annoying little flyers, he shuddered to think. Fortunately- Slayers are supposed to remain a secret, and everything about them steeped in mystery. And most fortunately- no one dared to question him.

"I'm afraid that we'll risk creating a widespread hunt for her, driving her deeper underground. The majority of her family and friends are also convinced- or doing an unshakeable job of pretending to be convinced, that she is deceased. This has to be handled delicately."

"Of course, Sir."

"I've decided to call in a specialist." He reached slowly into the bottom drawer of his desk, finding a book that by rights should still be in the hands of the Council's head librarian. One of the benefits of having a master key. "You two should canvass the area- discreetly, perhaps drive back down instead of flying- look for signs of her trail."

Gervais frowned at the phone. "Ah- yes, Sir." _Canvass? Her trail? What does that mean, we stop and look at every young blonde of her height and build? We'll be arrested. Or should we be looking for young pale men? We'll still get arrested. _

_ We can follow the car. A possibly maroon late model Buick. There _is _no trail. _

_ But one does not tell one's all powerful boss that. _

"We'll get right on it."

Travers smiled contentedly. That's exactly what all his operatives should say.

* * *

"Remember how I said I was bored in Washington? I lied." Buffy groaned.

"Shh."

"Don't shush me, it makes me angry_ and_ bored. I would rather have one undesirable emotion at a time, okay?"

"I got you your groceries. Go make fried eggs or something."

"I'm not hungry. I want to go running."

"You hate running."

"I hate the cabin more."

"If I _strangle_ you, will you be quiet?" Spike asked in a sinisterly sugary voice as he finished polishing his lighter, his knife, her knife, his new trophy. _Well, the polishable one. Though I could polish her right off._

"Survey says no." Buffy smiled in the same sort of way.

"Why don't you go play in your room?"

"I'm not six!"

"Are you sure? Because you're acting like you're six."

"How can we get the same four channels? We're up higher, shouldn't we have better reception?"

"We get PBS Portland- you just have to turn the telly thirty degrees to the right."

Buffy stood up and looked at, adjusting it slowly, trying to look confident.

Spike sighed. "Hold onto it- pretend I'm behind you and I just did somethin' stupid." Her elbow jerked back reflexively.

The static gave birth to a smiling woman. "- is made possible by contributions from viewers like you!"

Buffy looked surprised. "Oh,_ that's_ thirty degrees!"

"Welcome." He smirked and laid the rag down.

"I don't want to watch Finance Weekly!" Buffy wailed as the sponsors disappeared.

"Oh for God's sake, it'll be dark enough soon."

"What happens then? We watch the ten o'clock movie and fight over the dictionary. I don't even want to risk calling home in case they're being watched..."

"Look, Slayer, I am not the entertainment director on the cruise ship, I am the muscle. You go entertain yourself."

She set her shoulders. "Fine. I'll take care of my plans, you take care of yours."

She walked away. He watched. He knew his words had probably been a mistake.

* * *

_Three hours later..._

He was right. She was the grudge holding type. It was dark, but she didn't want to spar. Didn't want to go climb the little peak over the lake, didn't want to go down to the lake, didn't want to eat, or talk, or even engage him after he was deliberately obnoxious.

He heard her muttering at one point, and shaking the mobile. The only thing she did say to him was "crappy signal."

"Willow? Wills! Oh God, I miss you so much!" Buffy gushed.

"I miss you too! Are you eating toast?" Willow asked over the muffled crackling sounds emanating from the phone.

"No, should I be?"

"You sound weird."

"Oh, crappy signal up here. And boring. Boring, boring, boring, oh my God. Are you guys totally at the Bronze every night now?"

Willow beckoned Xander over as Joyce and Giles continued to have whispered conversations in the kitchen of Buffy's house. "Uh- no. We just sit. A lot. Worry. I have to hang out with Oz, but-"

"Have to? Don't you want to?"

"Oh, no, I _do_! I just mean- it's not the same until you're back. I feel like I can't settle, like something is always worrying me. It won't stop until you're home."

"Seconded. I can't even start my trip to see America, until I know you're- y'know. Safe. Back. Fill in the blank with the appropriate comforting word. My parents are kicking me out at the end of the month though- they kind of invited my Uncle Mack to stay for the summer since they figured I'd be gone."

"Oh man. I'm sorry, I'm screwing everything up."

"No- see, it's okay! Because G-man is totally going to 'take me in' until you're back, and then Will will have the perfect excuse to hang there, hanging with yours truly. It's all gonna be okay. As long as you come back-" he swallowed, "everything will be okay."

Buffy's eyes filled._ I'm not the only one who's life is on hold._ "I miss you guys." She whispered, for maybe the hundredth time since they'd been apart.

"We miss you- wait, your mom is pulling rank on us."

"Sweetie? Are you okay? You're in the new safe place? And it's _really_ safe? Have you- have you done a perimeter check?" Joyce pelted questions at her in a brisk voice trying to prevent emotion from overtaking her.

Buffy looked at the phone in amazement. "Is that _my _Mom? What do you know about perimeter checks?"

"I've been reading! Xander lent me a lot of books about the military."

"Wow. Um. That's great you have a new hobby, Mom."

"It's better than going crazy and I've finished writing all the thank you notes for all the casseroles and pies people have sent. I closed the gallery for a few weeks. So there's not a lot to-"

"You closed the store?"

"Honey, no one in their right mind would believe I could work with you ... Anyway, they'd be right. I can't concentrate on selling or buying pieces of paper and rock when my baby is hiding out from these awful people."

_My mom just called art, the thing she probably loves as much as me, more than me on a bad day- 'pieces of paper and rock'. Oh boy. Damage control time. _"Oh, it's not so bad. It's nice here." Buffy said brightly.

"Giles told me that someone found you yesterday."

"But Sp- uh, Spooky Dude is dust. He went poof." _Spike killed him. Spike does a good job at the fighting stuff. Like me. No wonder we're going nuts. And then we take it out on each other, switching off on whose turn it is to be the nutcase. _

"Vampires? And these men in suits? Buffy, these can't be good people if they can hire vampires."

"Mom- some of the best people in the world hire vampires." Buffy laughed softly, thinking about Giles. "It all depends on the vampire."

"Oh, Buffy, you're not with that Angel person, are you?"

"Hrrm. No, she isn't." Giles interjected. "Buffy, I rather need to speak to you regarding that."

"Give me a minute, Rupert." Joyce said firmly. "Buffy, if these people-"

"Mom, it's not 'these people', it's maybe one or two people. Two or three people in a big bunch of emotionally repressed, but basically good guys. Like the mayor, Mom. One civil servant turning into a building sized snake doesn't mean all your elected officials are secretly evil, devil worshipping immortal wannabes." Buffy paused. "I think that sounded better and more comforting in my head."

"I think I'll let you talk to Mr. Giles. Although- can I speak to this person protecting you? I don't like the idea of you moving to a place none of us know about with a strange man."

_Oh he's pretty strange..._"Mom, last summer I was somewhere you didn't know with strange people and I'm just fine."

"You're on the run from an assassin. You're not just fine. Bringing up last summer didn't help matters, either."

"You can't talk to him, Mom. It's safer if you don't know who he is. But you've met him, and - some of the time I think you liked him."

"Is- he- does he have a family to get back to?" Joyce ignored Giles turning shades of purple with anxiety behind her.

"Joyce, I must speak to Buffy and-"

"I want to make sure this man is as invested in her safety as we are!"

"He is!"

"He totally is, Mom. He has someone to get home to." _Just like me. Only not just like me at all. _

"Does he have a clean driving record?"

"Mother!"

"You could have an accident!"

_Really probable. But only when _I_ drive._ "He always pulls off the road in bad weather." Buffy smiled. _To a little hotel. A little hotel that I'd never go into. Because people only go in there to- whoa. Okay, no more thoughts about that when my mom is on the phone. Moms have radar._

"You're not getting a crush on him are you? Because that's what happened with Angel, I think. The danger and the mystery, and he was able to - Buffy? Buffy?" All she could hear was wheezing and shrieking.

Buffy was laughing too hard to answer.

* * *

She'd taken the call up in the loft. Reception was better. What she didn't know was how well sound carried through the unsealed wood between it and the staircase, and the living room by default.

Spike had stopped his listless pursuit of a truly awful paperback romance to listen to her. Heard her start to snuffle when talking to the witch and the boy and her mum. Heard her voice get soft and serious when she tried to reassure her mother. About him, of all things! And now the hysterics.

"Do I need to come up there?" He finally shouted.

* * *

"I insist you give me the phone!" Giles wrested it from Joyce's fingers with an apologetic nod. "Buffy! Buffy stop that noise and listen. You're probably attracting attention from everyone miles around."

"Well, as we're the only ones around for miles, I guess I can live it up." Buffy wiped her eyes and sighed into the phone. "What's up, Watcher-mine?"

"Several things. I heard from Angel today."

"You did? Is he okay? Did he-" she stopped in mid-gush, heart suddenly crouching low inside her, "ask about me?"

_No, he hadn't actually. Other than the demand, "She's still alive, isn't she?". He'd been too busy self-berating and worrying, and explaining. _"Yes, he- he hoped you were well, hoped this would all be resolved soon."

Buffy knew that tone. The gentle, encouraging voice. Like when he told her all grown ups knew what they were doing and the heroes and villains were always clear cut, easily distinguishable. _Well, if he lies, I lie, too._ "That's nice. Tell him I said hi."

"Buffy." The knowing tone.

"I know, I know. So? News?"

"Angel was -ah- caught out by one of Travers' agents. He may have let something slip, although nothing serious. It may implicate-"

"Caught? He got caught? Is he hurt? Did they-"

"No, no, dear, caught out. He reacted badly, blurted out my name- in regards to this matter. At least that's his take on it. I think he may be overly concerned." _Except when you only know half the story you become paranoid to begin with and when people've been in your house and gone through your records..._ "At any rate, as the Council is looking into my life and over my shoulder, I suppose he was wise to be concerned and let me know the possibility. But it does mean things have to happen as quickly as they can. I've got to fly to England to meet with a portion of the Council."

His voice was droning in her ear but made no sense. Angel almost got caught? He got Giles caught? Almost caught? Angel or Angelus, he's always hurting someone. "Are you going to be okay?"

Spike, outside the loft door, frowned. Go in or not? Sounded like something happened, something that could compromise his job so shouldn't he get in on it?

"I'll be in and out before anyone knows I'm there. Just a day trip."

"Who's going to watch your back? I have Spike, who do you have?"

"Wesley will come. The phone is going to stay at your mother's house. Erhm. We haven't figured out a way to offer you more protection on the magical realm as yet, but Willow and Xander are planning to spend the time researching alternatives to cloaking and glamours, things you can do without a specific casting or having a witch at your side."

"I can be by her side!" Willow's protesting voice piped up. "Totally able to be at the side. Sidekick. see, Giles, it's in my job description!" Willow frantically whined.

"No, now stop that." Giles said sternly. "The last thing I need is to sprout two 'someone I feel responsible for' ulcers instead of one. I already think I've ruined my stomach lining."

"But-"

"No buts. Wesley's already had to concoct a family emergency to have a plausible excuse to fly home on such short notice, and your mother is having Willow and Xander stay the time I'm away, on the pretext of doing some joint grief therapy. I've got to go, I just wanted to make sure to keep you updated."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm- I'm updated." Buffy answered in a numb voice. _Angel screwed up. Giles is going into the lion's den with Mr. Peanut's British twin as back up, my mom's sitting at home going insane, and my best friends are wasting our last summer as irresponsible goof offs pretending to be in mourning so they don't end up in real mourning._ "Everything sounds like it's moving along."

* * *

He heard her stop speaking. Heard that bloody awful sniffling start. The "I can't cry but I'm crying' sound. Some fighter. Maybe he'd been wrong about the stamina. _Or maybe it's easier to lie about it, so you stop thinking about her in ways you shouldn't._

"Alright, what the hell's gone wrong now?" He demanded, barging in. He wished he hadn't. She was all bunched up, phone at her feet, tucked up in a corner in the dark. He kicked people when they were down. Part of being evil. But she looked like she was trying so hard to pull herself back up and he'd smashed it. He no longer enjoyed grinding her back down. Maybe because he'd been trying to teach her to build herself up.

"Oh, the usual. Family and friends in danger, keeping secrets, living lies, Angel screwed up- maybe- and he didn't think to ask about how I was because he was so busy freaking out that he'd made it worse." Buffy told her kneecaps, not looking at him. "You can get out now, there's nothing new you need to worry about. It's all me stuff."

But he didn't move. Looked for something to say. "Heard you laughing. Can't be all bad."

"My mom says funny stuff sometimes."

"I liked your mum."

"You mentioned that. But you can stop now."

"Can't turn off how you feel about someone." _Shit. _

_ What? Why's he looking at me like that now? _"I guess not. Or I would so flick the Angel switch into the off position." Buffy murmured, pulling her knees in tighter, tried not to go into any other 'weird contexts'.

"Not me. I'd flip Dru's switch instead. Always could do that- well certain switches."

Buffy's insides suddenly knotted. Fingers, flipping, seeking, arching up, almost hurting and then wave after wave of pleasure, and feeling him close to her- without feeling like she was giving away everything. Oh it was too much, but her life was always about giving more than she could stand, right?

_Think of other things. And don't look at him._

_ Don't stare! Do not think about the Slayer's "on switch"._ The one hidden up so high inside, so tight and tender, a ripe little morsel, a sweet little bud, a- _Damn. I'm hungry. And horny. Shit. _

"Leave you to your misery then." He left.

Misery loves company, Buffy thought, and watched him go, feeling grateful for his strange brand of quiet, abrupt empathy, and annoyed because she felt they could reach out to each other more. They had before.

She stayed. She thought.

* * *

_Day Fifteen..._

Her crossbow was gone, which meant he was out hunting in the post-midnight hours. She didn't slide her jacket on, she didn't take the phone, stupidly. _But I'll be right back. Just tell him what I want to say, so I can make peace and I can sleep. I should _so_ not be worried about peace with Spike, but whatever. _She felt oddly empty knowing he wasn't in the house, and he wouldn't be coming to lay beside her. She shouldn't want that, shouldn't feel like that. But you can't turn off how you feel about someone...

* * *

Spike roared over his kill. This was a whole different type of primal and he'd begun to enjoy it. Easier to enjoy things when you don't get your arse kicked in the process of gaining them. He looked up- saw her in the shadows, drawing back with a gasp and a wince. Okay- sometimes the violence between action and reaction made the victory sweeter. He licked his lips, and dove back down. _She can stare if she wants. This vamp eats._

* * *

_I'm now a vegetarian. I can be a vegetarian. Pasta, pizza, veggies, bananas, salads, peanut butter, chocolate, eggs- oh no, that's unborn chickens. Oh no, does pasta have eggs in it? Flour, water- _She was trying not to be sick, She was looking anywhere but at him, and the massive shaggy furred deer- or deer thing- under him, with its lifeless eyes and twisted back head.

"You like venison, Luv?" Spike chuckled, seeing her suddenly turn and do a silent retch, though nothing came out. "It'll be a bit dry now, but I saved you some."

"Don't be gross. I'm considering becoming a vegetarian, okay?"

"If veg had blood, I'd drain them too." He rose from his knees, wiped his mouth with a wicked look. "Sorry. Gotta eat." He reminded her completely unapologetically.

"I know. I know you do, and I know you have to fight. I wanted to say- sorry. I guess. I don't know. In my head it was worked out better." She kept her distance from him and his meal.

"Sorry? For what?"

"You do good at what Giles asked you to do. Watch my back and make sure I don't get found and don't get killed. That's my job too- only usually on a big, world-sized scale. When we get cooped up, we get crazy, and drive each other nuts, and when we freak out at each other it doesn't help. So I'm sorry I wasn't very- I don't the word. Friendly? Nice? Not hostile?"

He might've just drained a bag of hallucinogen for as surreal as he felt. Words came out slowly. "You don't have to be nice."

"I know."

"Just don't do any good to let ourselves rot. Cooped up. In chains." She'd be something to chain up, wouldn't she? _Stop that!_

"Hate chains." She muttered bitterly.

"Me, too actually. Prefer to be able to-" _I think we were on different topics. Oh, bugger she just realized it too! _"We're men of action, you an' me." He said hastily.

"Women and Vamps of action." She corrected. And darted. Not part of the plan, the plan was to apologize. But this was action, and that was them.

"Oi!" Spike blinked at the now empty space where she'd stood.

"Practice! Not getting caught. Not being found!"

"You make too much noise not to be found!"

She went silent.

"Won't say that again." He muttered. "Alright! I'm gonna get you!"

He heard a faint little laugh- and he smiled.

* * *

Okay, the good thing about being in the middle of nowhere is that no one is around to see you make an ass out of yourself and act like Tarzan slash secret agent man slash real badass. Or, in other words, like a Slayer who's been kept off the field and a vampire who's been playing good for a couple weeks.

"No fair, no fair!"

It also helps when the person you're trapped with is someone you've been wanting to kill for a long time- but you can't since you've been corralled into a sick partnership. You have all the drive, and still know you're not gonna die.

"Tree branches count as stakes!"

"Do not!"

"Do so!"

"Not unless I point it at your heart."

"Then I can pull out the fangs, as long as I don't aim them at your neck!"

They went from chasing to grappling and back, keeping silent and stealthy during the running and dodging, and switching to hissing and shouting when the contact started, running from the cabin through the dense woods, and fighting their way up the little leg of the mountain, and back down to the lake.

Hours of this "sport" and for no real purpose sent Buffy's "this is stupid" alarm off more than once.

Her adrenaline overrode it. She paused when she had him at arms' length.

"Ah- your game face is on, Luv." Spike, in his own, didn't punch her face as he'd planned, but instead patted her cheek, something covetous in his eye. "All steel under silk."

_Oh. Oh no, bad feelings. _

"Such pretty velvet over iron." He purred, letting his touch deepen, palm caressing. _Don't think like that. Why not? Always complimented her- when it was worth complimentin', and this is._

_Yes. Yes, bad feelings, but worth it feelings. Like when you know you're going to eat the whole pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream._ "Shame you're not so pretty." She mocked, smiling, not moving her head away.

"But every bit as hard." He seized her hand and forced it to rest high upon his face, thumb to cheek, fingers to brow. "Strength is the same, it's all in how you use it, not how you wear it."

_Run. Run away, he doesn't touch me, I don't touch him. Not face to face in the moonlight, panting like you're some animal, some freak, some- _She blinked. The longer she stared in her eyes, the more she thought she could understand the mind behind them. _Some _warrior._ It's always inside me, in both of us. Might as well learn to use it. No, not even use it, just- be it._

"You better stop admiring and start running." Buffy didn't shy from his hand, she took it down herself, soft skinned fingers lightly lifting it from her cheek.

"Oh, so now it's the other way? Spike runs and Slayer chases?"

She nodded. "Yep. And like you said- gotta learn not to back away from it, right?"

"That's right. Don't fight it off, fight with it."

"So. Run."

He ran, and he tested her. He went on dangerous routes, routes she'd ignored before in favor of taking the "safer", more human friendly paths. She didn't do that this time, stayed right on his tail, chasing him to the ends of the earth- which meant right to the lake.

Buffy watched him dive in, coat leaving him in one smooth fling back with both arms, before they went forward, and broke the black water. _Okay. He wins. That has to be slimy or about forty degrees. I mean, it's summer, but it's summer up in the mountains, in the relatively limited sun zone. And it's just a game right now, if it was serious, I'd totally do it. Diving into icy lake water is totally a Slayer thing and right now I'm not-_

_ I am not supposed to pull back, and slide into normal girl mode. I'm not supposed to think there's "slay mode" and "normal mode", there's just supposed to be me- doing this._

_ She's the real deal. _Spike watched her slow, stop, and start running again, harder than ever. She hit the water like a gymnast flying from her springboard, and popped up several yards in, gasping and shivering instantly. _She is still human after all, and this isn't life or death. _

"You have a- an evil streak." Buffy spat water and blinked, the cold water jarring her out of her confident mindset.

"I know." He swam over to her. "An' I broke one of my cardinal rules. Never get the boots wet if you can help it."

Buffy squirmed out of his arm as it wrapped around her. "I give, okay? Stop."

"Not fightin', helpin'. Your lips are blue." He pushed her into shallower water, as roughly as he could manage while still supporting her shaking body.

"I'm good, I can touch bottom now." She straightened up, and scraped her wet hair back from her face, and squeezed it out.

_I've seen all of her, more or less. She looked good. She looks good this way, too. _Spike eyed her clinging wet clothes. _Cold_, wet clothes apparently, he eyed her chest. "So- you took the plunge."

"I wasn't going to let you get away." She half-trudged, half- swam to the shore.

"Well done." He followed her, then stopped. "You idiot!"

"What? What'd I - ah!" She skidded in wet stones on the shallow's bottom, half falling. Spike roughly seized her by the elbow and hauled her up so hard she heard tendons pop.

"The phone! It's been mojoed or enchanted, whatever, so it's no typical little piece of wiring, but you bloody well submerged it!"

"I didn't!" She shook him off and pushed against his chest. Even with his vampiric grace he skidded on the smooth round stones, boots already full of water, weighing him down. "I was only planning to be out here for a minute, not an hour! It's still- still on the table." She gave another convulsive shiver and rubbed her arms.

"Oh." He hated when she was able to do the superiority bit. "You gonna help a man up, or not?"

"Not." But she relented all the same and pulled. Unsuccessfully. He was halfway up before she skidded, went down, and he crashed on top of her, both of them taking a dunking, then sitting up and spluttering. "Geez, Spike!" She wiped water from her eyes.

"If you weren't so puny..."

"I can lift you up!"

"I can lift you up, too, you're still tiny!"

"You're- ow. Hang on a minute, move your leg." Arguing and insulting was abandoned in favor of fixing discomfort.

"I'm caught in a branch on m'laces, give me a sec."

"No, no, I got it..."

Working together, tangled together, they felt themselves go back into their more companionable mindset. It was getting to be a familiar pattern- banter, hate, fight, comfort, hang together. Sometimes- okay,_ once-_ it went into some other category best left undefined.

"I think we scared all the fish- 'cept the blighter caught in my trousers." Spike shook out one of his legs, scooting up.

"Forget the fish, I'm sitting on rocks and they're bruising my butt. And there's one-" She reached down into the water, pushing at the offending object, "jabbing into my thigh."

"Whoa, Slayer." He caught her hand, but didn't meet her eye. "Not a rock."

"Oh. Oh? Oh! Really?" Buffy's cold cheeks became hot rapidly, and her arms, one in his grasp and one in supporting her, went wobbly.

Meaning she fell. Again._ I am so not smooth._

"Well, you were all pressed up against me." Spike pointed out defensively, letting go of her arm.

"I wasn't upset!" Buffy said, just as defensively. _Wait. That doesn't sound right..._

"You weren't?"

"I- didn't think you did it on purpose."

"Right! Reaction. Strictly physical."_ Like noticing how you haven't gotten back up, and you're just lyin' on this pebbly beach, shivering and soaked... Every inch of those soft little breasts that I'm not supposed to look at screaming that you need warming up. And that you're lying down. With me. Again. It's gettin' to be a habit. In three different beds and now the shore of a lake. What the hell is happenin' here?_

"Strictly physical." Buffy nodded after the words had a minute to filter. _Shouldn't my brain be a lot more quiet if this is all lusty and nothing else?_

He leaned in, she stayed still- and then she gave another convulsive shiver and reality snapped back in for a second. "You gotta get in the house. C'mon." He tore himself up, hauled her up too, footing suddenly sure because he couldn't afford another minute of being so close in that position.

"I'm good, thanks." Buffy didn't pull free, just let him let her go. His fingers left wrinkles in her wet sleeves. _Another one lets go- still leaves a little mark._

* * *

_To be continued..._


	15. Chapter 15

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Picks up from where the last chapter ended. _

_Author's Second Note: SMUT WARNING. I mean it. Skim if you gotta._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of show's dialogue will be used._

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Sirius120, ShyL, micmoc, Alottalove, Embers and Flames, ammuna, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, Touch the Dark, ValidescopeWest, Mike13z50, Rachel, Cavementftw, kzal, Cantanatova, and hbmckidd._

_The team that never lets me down._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XV**

_Day Fifteen, wee hours..._

They walked to the house in silence, walked inside in silence, dripping.

"You need somethin' hot? Oh. Don't think we have tea or anything. I'll put it on the order form for the next time they send up groceries. God, even for vamps, not havin' a store handy is pretty damn primitive." Spike talked to fill the void.

"I don't need tea." Buffy smiled at him sadly, and went to the phone. No missed calls. Ringer on. Everyone was as safe as safe could be. "I'm gonna go get wash the lake off though. Gritty."

"Right then. See you in the afternoon." They'd sleep apart, and wake in midday, and wait to get out again. Little soldiers kept in their box, only able to come out and play at night.

"Okay." _No. It's not okay. This is _it? _This is _all? _Trapped in some kind of limbo and the one person I'm with- I'm telling to get lost for half the time. Yeah, I hate him. But I can't afford to hate him right _now.

She stopped moving, just standing there, looking half-drowned and eyes unblinking at him.

"Somethin' wrong?"

She nodded.

"And that would be?" _Like I don't already know. _

"Someday is a long way away tonight. That's all." Buffy whispered through chalky lips.

Some until someday, words that had struck their bedroom bargain. _Some. As in once, and not all the way. But some can mean- not all the way, and can mean more than once, it's all in how you define the thing, isn't it? _"Someday never seems to get closer." He gave her a regretful smile.

_So he's not into it. I can't blame him. He said it was all physical and we're both heart types. So- so why's he moving like that? Slinking up to me?_

"But _we_ could. Get closer, that is."

Neck moved like a rusted spring controlled it, slowly riding up and down. "Closer."

It became a chant, a call and response. He took one deliberate step. "Closer."

Hesitant but graceful. They could reach out and hold hands now. _I don't want just a hand._ "Closer?" She asked.

"Together." He answered and closed the distance, giving up, giving in. Some.

His lips were warm on her neck, only because she was cold. Pressed her into the wooden wall adjoining the hall, wet to wet, plastered to each other.

She felt more like Dru than she had before. Cold, clammy. Dead skin. He realized he liked the heat, he liked the blood rushing through her. "Get your clothes off." He was yanking her water logged sweater down, over her shoulders.

"You'll ruin it!" She yelped as he stretched out the neckline, but let him, his abrupt commanding words sending a flame through her frozen body.

"It was already so stretched out, soggy." He argued, before mouths consumed each other again.

Wet clothes- all of them, left in a sodden heap in the hall, and they walked each back to the bedroom, not daring to look, unable to stop. His kisses were driving her back, until she'd gasp for air, lift her head, and pull his mouth back down, now pushing him.

"We- can't." Buffy realized the situation. _Naked, hard Spike, naked, wet -in multiple ways- me. Heading to a bed. More desperate than we were before because, hey, now we actually have some experience to compare it to. Some _good _experience. _

"I know." _We almost did already. We can't, but bloody well feels like we can. Maybe the word we're lookin' for is "shouldn't". _

So why didn't they stop moving?

His back to the closed bedroom door, hand beginning to twist the knob, and she backed away again. "Not all the way, Slayer." He soothed. Or bargained. Both.

"Sandy."

His lips paused confusedly on her shoulder. "You wanna be called Sandy now?"

"No! Our skin-" she held up her fingers and rubbed them together, showing a little grit falling to the floor, "we're all sandy, we can't get into bed like that. We can't- you know. All dirty."

Apparently she'd never made love in fresh earth. Of course that might be a problem for humans. "Good point. Gotta rinse off."

He was driving again, back towards the bathroom. She understood, tightened up, he could see it and feel it, but she kept going with him, slipping inside.

"I'll be just a minute." She whispered.

Then he turned off the lights as she turned on the water.

"No rush. I'll stay with you. _Closer_ that way." He moved with her, into the steam.

* * *

Buffy imagined the pattern of events would be similar to the last time, only sped up. The agonized kissing, the hands put to good use, the bantering, the understanding.

She was wrong.

* * *

He didn't know how it happened so much more quickly this time. He was sluicing her down, and she was returning the favor. Hands were just more free to indulge in wicked wants when they seemed to have an innocent purpose. Soon he was touching every inch of her, and she copied him. He knew hands couldn't cut it tonight. _Had to be, have to be closer._

"Come to bed." It wasn't a question or a demand. Three words that fell out before he figured out what happened if she went with him.

"Okay."

_Guess we'll find out._

* * *

She was flat on her back, reaching for covers, and he stopped her, preventing her from covering up. Simply staring down at her, blue eyes quietly blazing, and troubled at the same time. "What?"

"Nothing." _How do I tell her I want something deeper when I tell myself I don't? Mouths can communicate in more than one way..._

He laid beside her, and Buffy relaxed. The kisses resumed- and changed. She found his head slipping away from hers, down her collarbone, down her sternum, down her stomach. "What are you doing?" She cried in quiet alarm, mind and body giving a sudden squirm, because she had a pretty good idea of _exactly _what he was doing.

"Shhh."

"No!" She sat up. "Not okay, not shh!"

Spike sat up. In the dark, they were head to head, on the diagonal. "I don't bite." He assured. "Not there." A faint hint of a smoky chuckle.

"I know you won't hurt me. But I don't want us to- hands okay, mouths not okay." She finally summed up. She waited for him to agree and let her set the boundaries, like he had the other night.

Only he didn't want to. This action was something he could do, and enjoy, and it was definitely more satisfying. He pushed. "Why not?"

"Because!"

"But you know I won't hurt you."

"I know."

"You just don't want me?"

"I want you!" _Oh crap_. "It's for Angel. Okay? Stuff like that- it's for Angel and me, and-"

His voice was bleak, knife edged. "He's not comin' back, Luv." Nonetheless, she said no. He didn't need to get a kneecap to the nose. He laid back down beside her, but she remained sitting._ Now what?_ "Slayer?"

_ I know that. I knew it before. He doesn't have to shove it in my face like that. _"You're a jerk sometimes." She whispered thickly.

"I know."

"What about Drusilla? If you're doing all this noble stuff to save her and help heal her, shouldn't this stuff be reserved for you and her?"

"She's not comin' back either." Spike said harshly.

Buffy recoiled like she'd been stung, only he was the one in pain. "Spike, I-"

"Do you know how many blokes she's had in her, or on her, since me?" He wiped angrily at his nose with his wrist. "Probably a dozen or two. Or five. She doesn't have the ability, Slayer, like we do, to say 'this is special, this is for him alone'. She was taught she was a puppet, a plaything, and that when the demon wants to play, however it wants to play, you let it! So no, she's not comin' back to me. That Dru- that _part_ of her- is gonna be left behind when she's healed. She's gonna come back to me different in the ways that matter, and stay the same in the ways that matter, and she's just- you're a jerk sometimes too, Slayer." He sat up, needed a smoke and of course there weren't any handy. He needed to do something to stop the angry pinwheeling in his head, the whining whir of_ "How can you be sure she'll still be the same in the ways you want, different in the ways you want? Doesn't that sound like you're clutching at straws? Working for a pipe dream? You wanted her healed, do you want her changed to the point you think of her as a different woman? Are those the same things?" _

He felt like his head might explode. He was about to fling his fist into the nearest wall, when a single fingertip on his forearm halted him.

"So- technically- are we both single now?" Buffy whispered, voice shaking a little.

Anger washed away as he suddenly had to confront that question. "I don't know. Hearts say no. Don't they?"

"Yeah... But if you're starting over with someone new- someday, and I'm- I'm never starting again," she couldn't keep the bitterness completely from her voice, "then I guess..." It was too dangerous to guess, the night was so confusing.

"Then I guess we're just two people who don't have any reason to hold back. For now."

* * *

This was it, this was better. Tangling, heavy kisses, whispers, laughs.

"You never?" He asked.

"No."

"It's easy."

She disagreed. "It's special. Isn't it supposed to be- special? Do I sound stupid?"

"No." He said sincerely. She sounds wonderful. _Dru never thought sex was special, any part of it. Oh she thought it was brilliant, fun, amazing, she could be loving during it, and she clearly loved it- but if it was "special" you wouldn't give it away to all and sundry in one of your moods, would you? _

But she had a point, his sweet, dark flower. More enjoying, less thinking. "Don't think so much, Slayer."

"I'll try."

"Rephrase. Don't think so much about whatever's drivin' us mad in our heads. Think about what I'm doing." He rose up, over her. Her hips went up as well, as though bound with an invisible wire to him. He smiled sinfully at her responsiveness. Propped on his wrists, his head lowered, and instead of a kiss, his tongue swiped her lips, parting them, letting lips touch only briefly before it was out with wicked flick across her jugular. Made her gasp, made her tense. Did the same on the opposite side, the white scar tissue on her neck, where someone had marked without restraint, a vampire intending to kill. He had that same mark. His tongue slowed, lingeringly traced it.

_This is weird. This is like vampire incest. Tonguing my scar from Angel, who bit Drusilla, who bit Spike. Don't think about Angel. Don't think about Drusilla, either, but REALLY don't think about him. He never wins in this contest anyway. Think about what Spike's doing. Which is starting to feel creepy good._

He moved on, hands firmly skimming her sides, tongue now dancing over aching nipples, cold to the touch. His hands rested just above her hips as he let himself take her peak in his mouth. A shudder, a quiver. Something wrong. "Slayer?"

"Hm?" She replied immediately, a tight, nervous sound.

"Breathe." His hands suddenly fell and rose, on a buttery silky ocean of skin. He chuckled and burrowed back into her breast. "I love to feel you breathe."

She laughed shakily and let her hands, which had been clenched firmly under her stiff neck, fell to his shoulders, almost caressingly. "You're in for a treat, I do it twenty four seven."

"Oh, yeah Baby." He smirked up at her with a playfully lecherous wink.

_Bad boy. Why do some women have a thing for them? _Buffy smiled back, hesitantly. His face changed, lost the rough, ever ready leer, softened. He was up again, over her, resting on one elbow while his other arm reached for her, hand extending to cradle the back of her head. The "tough thug front" fell off all the sudden, just for a second.

_Oh. That's why. To see the good guy underneath._ Buffy had time for only a blinding sudden thought she'd only vaguely understand later. He was pulling her forward, this almost hopeful, quizzical look on his face as his eyes closed.

_This is a real kiss. Oh my God. Everything else might be boredom, loneliness, and frustration, but- this is a real kiss._

His eyes blurred open. She'd gasped a little. Guilty as charged, caught red handed. The criminally sexual facade was about to be slammed back into place before she could call him on the rush of softness he'd felt.

Buffy swallowed, and licked her lips._ What have I got to lose? _ Eyes met, danced away, and she lowered her lids as her face lost all tension.

_Soft. Waiting. For me._ With a rush of air into his dead lungs, he captured her mouth.

_It's a game. Some. It's real. Some._

_ Some is better than none, at least for now._

She relaxed, he smiled, and in the dark he whispered, "Thanks, Slayer."

"Call me Buffy?"

"Buffy."

* * *

"Spike..."

Cautious little mewl, before her thighs unlocked around his hand. "I'll make you feel wonderful, Luv. Just trust me."

_It was okay now. More okay anyway. But trust? Well this kind of trust, sure, maybe. _"Don't make any sudden moves." She tried to joke.

"Nope. Nice and slow." One tanned thigh over one creamy shoulder, one resting to the side, knee bent a bit. His thumb stroked back her fine curls, and he inhaled, mouth watering. "_Very_ slow." _Savor this. Get to pluck a cherry, and hers it is. Tiny, pink cherry. _His tongue lathed over her bud, lightly, showing all kinds of restraint. For now.

_Holy electrical spasm_. Buffy jumped, thighs twitched, one effectively batting him by the ear. "Sorry." She gasped.

"Oh no, Luv, it's okay. If I do this right, the goal is for you to beat me senseless with your delicious, trembly little thighs." He smirked up at her, but only for a second before the soft look came over him again. "Honestly. S'posed to be intense, s'posed to lose a little control, 'specially with us. Can't hurt each other much." _Something that can't be said for the exes. _

She nodded, and relaxed under him again, one hand on his head, one lying across her chest. Short, gentle licks, now all over the surface of her lips and folds and her clit as well. Making her undulate with want, but the spasms were small and controlled now. "Oh... Oh, that's really good."

"An' it's just the start." He adjusted her hips, picking her up and resettling her easily at the waist, so she was spread wider. Before she could give into her blushes and close herself up, he buried his head firmly between, and suckled.

The pulling sensation made her yip softly in pleasure, and her hand found its way almost guiltily across her breast, cupping it, squeezing, something to hold onto. Only that felt pretty good too. _I'm turning into such a slut._ "Whatever that is- do more!" She cried suddenly as his lips wrapped and tugged gently on her nub. _Yep. Proof of slutdom._

"More, hm? More of this?" He bit down lightly with his lips and worried it in a circle. Her leg buffeted him, and he purred with self-congratulation. "How 'bout this?" A finger slid into her wet slit and he lapped the now swollen treat.

"Oh God!" Buffy's shoulders came up and she had a small, but richter measurable orgasm, only lasting a second, like an electric shock had taken over. "Wow. That was awesome."

"Not done." He refused to let her move away, arm stubbornly across her waist.

"But-"

He looked up sharply, something wrong in her tone. "What?"

"Nothing. That just felt... really, _really _good."

"S'posed to."

"I know."

"So why're you givin' me that look?"

"Guilt?" She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Hmmm, guilt is a bad thing in bed." He licked her softly, speaking between licks. "Trust me. I come from the most sexually repressed era in recent history, in one of the starchiest places." _Why I love the wild side so bloody much. _"Something I learned- you can never have too much pleasure." Faces, voices, Dru's rants and tears, followed behind his words, ghosts that always reminded him, made him a different man, a better man than what his grandsire had been. "Never too much- unless you hurt someone to get it."

She nodded.

"You're not hurtin' me. Am I hurtin' you?"

"Only if it's as opposite as it can be day." She laughed and stroked a fingertip across his forehead as he looked out from his soaking nest.

"Then enjoy the ride an' toss the guilt out the window. We'll have enough later." He reminded her ruefully.

"True." She settled back. "Go for it."

"That's my girl."

_Sounds so wrong. _His tongue cleaved her folds, and slid luxuriously inside. _But I really like the sound of it all the same._

* * *

See, this was how it should go, in his mind. The girl should never stop moaning in pleasure, and the more you made 'em babble, the better, and she should feel totally focused on you, no sudden bloody twists where she went off cravin' the wrong man.

"Spike, Spike, Sp-i- ike!" A segmented little sob as his tongue finished its maniacal probing inside her honey pot.

His urge was to slide up her, shove himself in hard, pump and pump, and not stop until he'd emptied out months of pointless yearning in her.

But he couldn't do that. For one thing, she was looking glazed and wild eyed, and he wasn't sure she wanted to be taken just now. Or, for that matter, that you could 'take' something from her- and if he'd want to. "Easy, Luv. I've got you." He petted her arm and rolled off, onto his side, pulling her in.

"Thanks." She laughed breathlessly. "Thanks doesn't cut it, but... wow. Thanks."

"Hrm. No worries." He licked his lips longingly. "Maybe we could... do it again sometime?"

"Yes." _Why not? As long as we're here... _"While we're together." _Not together! Physically, not couple-y. _"I mean, _here_, together."

"I get it, Precious. Don't backpedal so fast, your legs have gone all rubbery, remember?" He teasingly squeezed her thigh. She laughed against his skin, then smiled up at him. Time slowed a bit, and the teasing left. _She really is something. Beautiful, lethal, little bit crazy, but mostly sane. Thinks with her heart, too... I like that._ He took another kiss, a real kiss. Took was the wrong word, because she gave it back just as much. Exchanged was the right word.

"Hm." Coughed as he rolled on top of her, kissing gently across her neck. "If you want...?" His heart stabbed. Body wanted, brain still felt a deep sense of loss as he offered something that he'd sworn was just for love. And he would never be in love with this girl, as much as he might grow to like her.

Buffy's insides rebelled on multiple levels. She did want. Very much want. But not with him, and not now. If anything else touched her recently overstimulated parts, she thought she would combust. "M-Maybe later?" She offered.

"Sure." They exchanged relieved smiles. He rolled off, and lay on his back, proud erection standing tall and painfully full. "Although if you could get him down for the night- I'd appreciate it." He said casually.

"I think I can handle that." Buffy smiled briefly, and scooted closer, letting her hand timidly close over him, then firmly press, pump, pull, a slide. A deeply pleasurable one, tight fitting and powerful as she got comfortable with embracing him.

"Easy, wait." Spike cautioned after a few minutes, and licked his fingers and swiped them around his sheath quickly, rapidly getting under her fingers.

"Wait why? What was that?"

"Wet. Do it too dry and it tugs in the not so fun way." He explained. "Spit works in the short term."

"People spit on- ew. That's mean!" Buffy said indignantly.

"Not spit _on _- although- no, never mind. Not 'spit on', Slayer. 'Use saliva'. Is that more acceptable?"

"Yes." She sniffed in haughtily.

"Naturally slippery and wet, when you can't have what nature intended. Why mouths feel so good." He explained.

"Agreed." Her pussy throbbed happily in memory.

Pushing, pulling, leaning close to him, his hands caressing her, moaning softly. Hie pre-cum kept him lubed enough now, and she seemed to be taking extra care. Watching him thoughtfully.

"I've seen videos." Buffy suddenly broke the quiet of the room, the silence filled only by soft little murmurs and the rustle of skin and sheets.

"Huh?"

"Not a lot, just like-flashes of things I really didn't want to see."

"Oh. _Videos_." He snorted. "Know why it looks so ugly?"

"Well- wait a minute, I thought guys liked that?"

"Oh sure, we love to look at the pretties. Right until it's _our_ pretty we catch bein' fucked in our own bed. Then you get an eye opener. So- as I was sayin', know why it looks so ugly?" He repeated with deep bitterness in his voice.

"Why?"

"Because what you see is some man takin' what belongs to someone else, and some woman doin' the same. Love's bitch types like you an' me see that and all we can think about is that fact that it's empty. Means nothin'."

Buffy paused. "I meant it looked painful and messy. Like- girls with their heads bent funny and people falling off beds."

"Oh." _Well, haven't I just made a priceless fool of myself?_

"This- doesn't have love in it." Buffy reminded him.

"No- but there's like in it. Comfort. Pleasure. It means _something_." He said stiffly.

"You're right. It does." Buffy agreed quietly.

"Not that you- fuck, Slayer. You talk too much! An' yes, so do I."

Bodies parted. Sort of. She leaned over him, he purposely looked elsewhere. "I was going to say- I've seen a little bit of what it looks like- so I'm not an expert."

"Oh." _Ahhh. Got it._ "I promise not to make you wrench your neck about, if that's what you're worried about." He offered, still looking nonchalantly away.

_I'm worried about doing this at all, with you. But, he doesn't need to know that. He _already _knows that._ "If we fall off the bed- you are so getting your ass kicked."

"I'll take the risk." He tugged her up by the wrist. "But not just now- you have to want to do that for someone. Wanna please them, taste them, get lost in them. We can do other things for now. I'll wait."

_He won't be waiting long._

* * *

"That was fairly quick."

"Diplomatic immunity cards come in handy." Wesley smiled stiffly as they boarded the plane. Robson and Abby were pretending to ignore them as they took seats several rows back.

"I'm sorry about embroiling your cousin in all this." Giles muttered.

"Oh, no embroilment. It really was Vera's wedding this weekend. I simply hadn't planned to attend. My father will be there."

"Understood."

* * *

"You don't understand my power. Or what I require."

"I don't _care_ what you require, you can have it. Simply find the girl. You and all your -" he looked disdainfully around at the chief figure and several less impressive demons, "_furies_, I'll call them, find her, and kill her. If you can't kill her, mark her, make her traceable. I no longer care if you preserve the body, you can burn it, eat it, take it back to your realm . Only she _needs_ to die and another Slayer must rise from her line, the _first _line, the _true_ line. And if you ever try to come back to visit me after this operation has been performed, the new slayer- the one who will be as powerful as Summers but who will follow _my _every command- will hunt you." Travers stared at the creature before him. "Now. Do _you_ understand?"

"Give me the sample."

"Finally. A sensible demon. Payment upon delivery." He closed the black book and wiped his blood stained hand on a neatly folded silk handkerchief. He passed a vial to the blue-black talons in front of him. "It was taken in January. It's not 'heart blood' as you typically claim to use, but it is her blood. I had it extracted before her test- proof she really had been given the amount of drugs needed to weaken her, before her- erm-exam."

"It's not fresh." The demon regarded it, rusty brown at the edges, a vial now half full.

"You're past your sell by date as well." Travers said with an edge in his voice as he looked at the demon with its pulpy, cracking skin. "I believe she is cloaked, and possesses some magical protection. She has out maneuvered a 'seeker', searching for her being. Are you certain you can find her by blood, even with such things in place?"

Orange glowing eyes sparked angrily. "Do not question our ability. How dare you call forth myself and my spawn, the most feared and-"

"Just explain, please." Travers fiddled with a letter opener and ignored the towering form as it frothed in anger.

"Blood doesn't need to be in the body for me to find it. You say she's with a vampire? So much the better. They have an unhealthy lust for the humans' scarlet, as much as we do, only they are impure, half-human."

"I don't want him, only the girl."

"If she is with a vampire, and she's a slayer, there will be blood flowing. Either fighting or feeding, vampires cannot resist drinking, and slayers cannot resist spilling. I can find her trail if she's so much as a scratched a scab in the past year. "

"I'll give you two days to pick up her scent, a week for delivery. If you haven't found her by then-" Travers held up a small glass orb wherein fire and smoke tumbled. "I smash this. Trap you between realms."

Denied brimstone or flesh. True hell, indeed. "We'll find her."

* * *

_Day Sixteen..._

It had been one of those awkward days, but not unpleasant. They slept until late afternoon the day before, woke up, bathed, ate, watched PBS and Spanish soaps, and whittled stakes. In short, they acted like nothing happened, despite the fact that they woke up naked in the same bed. They watched the ten o'clock movie, and then Spike left to track down his dinner.

When he came back, she had the bedroom door left open for him, bedroom light turned on. He smiled to himself, slid off his coat, locked the door and checked the windows before going down the hall.

Buffy was painting her toenails, and she looked up with the same sort of reluctantly pleased smile he was giving her.

"You okay?"

"Yep."

"Mum and your backup singers?"

She capped the bottle and stuck her toes out. "Giles is over the ocean or up in the air." Buffy kept her voice bright with an effort. "Xander and Willow think they found some magical thingy I can make, if they talk me through it, to protect me from all sorts of evil creatures hunting me. Well, it'll at least ward them off a little if they get too close."

"That's a relief. If I have do deal with another vamp in fancy dress..."

"Not exactly a relief. It works on vampires. Now I have to figure out a way to tell them to find something, or my 'bodyguard' gets driven off, too."

"You stalled?"

"Yep. Said the phone was going crazy with cracklies." She shifted in bed, and watched him hesitate by it, coming closer. "You? Good hunting?"

"I saw some of those bloody loud wolves. Think they scared off all the big game, an' I didn't feel liked chasin' rabbits. Hardly a swallow. It's okay. I can survive a couple days on empty if I have to. Done it before."

She hated that thought. Which was weird. She hated that he was hunting animals, beautiful, happy, furry animals. But she hated the thought of him going hungry because of her even more. "Can't you go where the wolves aren't?" She suggested worriedly.

"Not without leaving you on your own for hours, an' I'd be outta screamin' range. Not like here, where the food's in the bloody front yard." He chuckled, gesturing towards the surrounding woods.

"We could drive to the nearest butcher?"

"Hour or two away."

"We have gas."

"You're supposed to stay low, Luv."

"I know." Pause. "I don't want to worry about you."

"Then don't."

"You can't turn off the way you feel about somebody."

Switch. Flipped. Locked into on, and now he knew he couldn't get it back off. "I worry about you too." Her cheeks turned a darker shade, and she shrugged.

"I have my pb and j. I'm good."

"Is that all you eat?"

"Milk and Rice Crispies and Froot Loops, too." She smiled.

He thought. He swallowed the thought. Then it came out anyway. "Maybe we could do a run to the store. The proper one, in the vast 'metropolis', what with the gas station, and three or four shops." Her face lit up. "Quick trip. Only this once!" He tried to quell the sudden shine in her eyes. "The rest of the time we hide out, we order the groceries at the ranger station, let the little rangers do their jobs."

"Fine, once, whatever! Civilization! I'll get my shoes!" Buffy flew off the bed.

"Tomorrow, Slayer, tomorrow. Well- technically later today. It's after one, Luv."

"Oh. Yeah." She realized sheepishly. She sat down. He sat beside her. "Are you- gonna be okay?"

Now see, that sort of sweetness was nauseating when directed at all her little pals and her causes and that broody, silent ape. But aimed at him? He quite liked it. "I'll eat somethin' out of the kitchen if I get peckish. It's not a need yet. It's just good not to let the tank get too low, yeah?"

"Yeah. I guess." She fanned her nails and tapped them, then sighed.

"You really get yourself tied up in knots over little things, don't you?"

"Happens." She shrugged.

" 'Preciate it."

"Welcome."

Silence. He scratched his fingers through his hair, and uncomfortably across his neck. "Slayer-"

"What?" She asked, far too quickly.

"I was gonna say we should get our minds off it. Y'know. Stop worryin'. For a night." Just one. Well, just _another _one. Just a little more.

"That sounds like a good idea." Warm fingers brushed under cool ones, hands landing on the same spot of blanket. They jumped.

_How can we be all over each other, how can we - urghhh- act like we like each other sometimes- then a little hand touch makes us jump like startled cats?_ Buffy flinched as their hands hastily parted.

"I'll get the lights." He did, neatly, calmly, belying the twitchiness he felt. _What the hell'd she do to me, make me act like that? Nothin' major in this._

He sat back down, and her hand clumsily clasped him at center chest. His hands flowed easily to her back, lifted up her shirt. They turned in, to each other. Foreheads bumped, soft laughter, then his hand fell to the back of her neck. Another jump.

Her lips turned up and his fell down, soft, and hungry, and above all- real. Honest. She gasped. _Not supposed to feel like that._

"Buffy?"

"It's just cold in here." She lied.

"I'll get the other blanket off the couch." He started to pull back.

She caught his wrist. "No... we'll just get under the covers."

"Right." He kissed her again, chest rising and falling out of an effort to control himself. When he kissed her sometimes, it was all part of the night's activities. Other times it felt different. _He_ felt different. Didn't do to dwell on it, but knew he wanted more of it, and that it scared him shitless all the same.

She kissed him as they toppled back, side to side, lips parting and joining slowly. Intimate.

_Oh. _That's_ why we jump, why our whole bodies flex._

_ It's what fighters do- always try to catch ourselves before we fall..._

* * *

Feels different this time. Buffy paid attention to him that night, really watched him, more than she'd ever watched him before. Paid attention to what effect her touches, even the smallest ones, had on him. This guy, this vampire, all hardness, and evil, and cockiness- acted so hungry for every inch of her skin, every tiny little caress.

Starved. Not just because he couldn't hunt, because he'd lost the one thing he'd been craving for years. Someone's love.

_And I can never love someone like that._

_ But...I do want more. Give him more._ Her heart thudded. She leaned above him, and kissed from his jawline, his throat, each hard, smooth tier of muscle in his chest.

His skin fluttered under her touch, abdominals heaving in. "Buffy?"

"Shhh. Just- tell me if I'm screwing up and don't crack my neck or something. And just- hold still a minute." She pulled her hair back and let it hang over one shoulder, tilting her head to go with it. Looking up at him- to find him watching her with anticipation and disbelief on his face. "Can you not look at me?" Buffy asked with a half-joking voice.

"Nope. Not gonna happen." He answered. His tone had none of its usual bluster, more dazed, maybe a little freaked. She could relate to that perfectly.

"But you know how this is supposed to work and I don't, and I can't do this if you watch me!" She protested, lying her head on his stomach and giving him pleading puppy dog eyes.

Didn't work. "Know you've never done it. Otherwise you'd know no matter what you do, mistakes you make- no man can take his eyes off his girl right now." A hand went loosely to tangle in her pooling blonde hair. "Beautiful."

She wasn't his girl. Maybe for the night though, she could overlook that. You can make yourself believe anything you want if you try hard enough. _He called me beautiful. _"Okay." Buffy agreed softly. She scooted back up, and instead of avoiding his eyes, made sure they met, over top of this big, jutting thing in the middle of them.

_Wanna please them, taste them, get lost in them. _His words from the other night rattled around her head as she inhaled and framed her lips to go around him. She hesitated over him. _I do want to please and taste and all that stuff. It's not supposed to be something I do just to get it done with. Damn, this would be so much easier if I loved him._

"Don't have to, Luv."

"Huh?" _Mind reader! Sneaky, snarky mind reader!_

"You don't have to. I wasn't pushin' for this."

"No, I know. I get it. I just want to. Really." She sighed. Her warm breath on the tip of his length made him twitch. "Oh my God. It moves on its own? I thought these things were hip controlled."

He laughed, bashfully. Neither of them could believe it, and his brash side almost reasserted itself. "For the most part. But when we're real happy- he'll give you the nod."

"Impressive." She licked her lips. "Let's see how happy we can make you."

Spike watched her lips close and press lightly to his pale skin. A chaste little kiss- on a completely unchaste area. He closed his eyes and sighed. _We really are quite the blend of darkness and light, her an' me. _After years of deliberately avoiding anything light at all costs, he was finding he enjoyed this little scrap of secondhand sun."Lovely..."

"Good." Another kiss. Another. A flicker of tongue. _Ooh, new taste. But I like it. Don't know why, just do. The main thing is- _he _likes it._ She let her tongue deliberately pull across his skin, and his member swished hard. Her eyes stopped looking down, and started looking up, watching the effect she had on him.

So hot, so wet, so long since this had happened for him... His hips tucked and rolled, shoulders and spine seemed unable to relax, waiting- "Ohh, yes, bloody fuck, yes!" Her lips wrapped around and gently sucked him in. Not much, maybe an inch or two, but it was enough. _Inside someone again. Glorious._

_I make the Slayer of Slayers-_ she realized she hadn't thought of like that in days- _I make _Spike_ weak and wobbly and moan-y. _

_I'm glad._

* * *

She wasn't a natural at it, she was clumsy but determined. He, surprise of surprises, wasn't the type she'd thought, the type to yank her hair and demand. Patient, grateful, vocal. She blushed as she easily slid her mouth up and down him now, five or six inches easily in and out, sucking gently on the top and bottom of each stroke.

Very, very vocal.

"Bloody hell, Buffy, holy sweet fuck, oh, _fuck_!"

"Shh." She finally had to giggle at him. "I'm not going to stop if you stop cheering me on."

"Can't help it." He laughed back, and stroked her hair. Went lower, massaged her neck. "Neck's all good?"

"Slayer bendy." She winked, and resumed.

* * *

_Ten minutes later..._

Restless hips and strained sounding "breathing", little stifled grunts as he tried to keep his cock from leaping and forcing itself down the back of her throat. Not even down her throat, just a little more leverage so he could move with her... "Unnh."

Buffy watched his face contort and then relax, watched his fists clench. "Am I hurting you now?" She pulled off with a wet plop, and worried eyes.

"No, no! The opposite. Havin' a hard time not movin' with you." He laughed and his hand replaced her mouth for a moment so he didn't lose the momentum of his pleasure.

"You can move with me." She blushed. "I totally beat you up with my knees when you- you know. You can move."

He paused before replying. "Can I try something?"

_This could be stupid of me._ "Sure, I'll try whatever."

* * *

"You make any jokes about this-" He sat on the edge of the bed, she knelt beside it.

"If you want me on my knees, worshippin' your pussy, just say so." He winked and licked his lips hungrily.

_Worshipping me. I don't want that. But I like the offer._ "No, I like the other way fine." She adjusted her head, and sank her soft, warm mouth with a seeking tongue back around him. He rocked his hips forward, and they fought. No, danced. It was gentle, like a glide, his push, her embrace, and vice versa.

* * *

_Two minutes later..._

He'd fallen to her. Flat on his back, hips hanging off, but still working with her mouth. She held onto his jagged hipbones, and his hands locked around hers. He was emitting and ever louder stream of grunts and huffs. Something sweet and salty was leaking into her mouth, had been for the last minute straight. "Almost!" His hoarse shout cemented something for her.

_I'm on my knees. But I have all the power._ Invigorated, she finally understood what he'd said, the last part... _"You lose yourself in them." _

_ Find yourself there, too. _

_ No holding back. _

Her hands wormed their way to twine with his, fingers laced and then locked down, sucking and swallowing against the stiffness in her mouth as her head bobbed, eyes closed, then open, searching his out.

He lifted his head to look down across his splayed torso, see where his shy "virgin" had gone, and which succubus replaced her.

Blue eyes met green, and of course, even in the dark, they could see, him more so than her. _Emerald eyes. On fire._ She could scorch him with that much intensity. She tightened her hands suddenly and dropped her lips almost to his base, never unleashing his gaze.

_You lose yourself in them_. Hips pumped up, roars broke out, and he sat up, pulling himself free as he released a sporadic torrent across her breasts.

Buffy blinked as he let go. She ought to feel freaked out, watching this supine form suddenly turn into a roaring, tearing lion, his fingers bruising hers, wet cock pumping out across her bare skin. She didn't though. She felt... oddly excited. And relieved. And proud. A whole cocktail of emotions that left her sitting on her knees, stunned, mouth still half open.

Spike tried tugging her up to the bed, but his body defied him. Limp muscles, except the one still dripping pearls onto his inner thigh. Path of least resistance then, he thought, and slid off the bed to join her on the floor, knee to knee.

"Did I- are you okay?" She gasped as he landed beside her.

He didn't answer verbally. Kissed her mouth. Then her throat. Pressed her back over one slightly shaking arm as his head bent. "What are- oh."

His tongue and lips swiped and sucked soundlessly. Cleaning himself off of her.

Her insides twisted, a deep cramp at the edge of her womb. She lifted one breast tentatively and he took it eagerly into his mouth. "Felt so good..." He finally whispered between gobbling kisses.

"It does." She whimpered as they fell back onto the hard rough wooden floor. He finished cleaning her small, ripe bust of all the dots and long streams of his release. She moaned softly, feeling his weight against her. Semi hardness rubbed between her thighs. Her hips climbed up to meet his.

"So good, Baby."

"Thank you."

Done cleaning, but still enjoying her, he stayed on top, mauling her breasts with blunt teeth. "You're welcome. Believe me." He chuckled, taking a nipple and squeezing it gently 'til she squeaked. "The things you can do, Slayer..."

"Good partner." She shared credit, and felt him hardening again, now against her wetness. The ache inside turned into a steady throb.

"You need to be taken care of." He rolled his shoulders as his muscles recovered.

"I'm good." She gasped.

"You're bloody amazing, but you still sound like you need something." He worked his hand down, two fingers gently manipulating her petals, then clit. She arched off the floor, letting him get his arm underneath. "Back to bed."

He scooted her onto it, bum falling off the edge, cradled in his palms. He slung himself up, shoulders under knees as if he were slipping on a familiar he'd always worn. "My turn for worshipping, I think."

"I don't want to be worshipped." She protested, hands clenching to stop from greedily fingering her whining body.

"Not even a little lip service?" He smirked and ran his tongue across her, stem to stern, and then let it dance inside.

"Ohhh. Oh God, never mind, worship away, lips and service and anything you want."

"Anything I want? Dangerous offer, Slayer."

"Well...everything around here is dangerous. For both of us." Buffy whispered, propping herself up on her elbows, looking at him as he casually leaned a chin against her curls.

"You sure?"_ Am_ I?_ No..._

"No, but I'm not sure about- about not doing it." She struggled to explain.

"Same. But I'm sure about this." He kissed her lightly on her pouting puss. "I skipped dinner, an' you look good enough to eat."

She giggled and laid back, suddenly very comfortable with devouring, and being devoured.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	16. Chapter 16

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving! I am thankful for all of you, dear readers and reviewers. As you know, things are a bit rocky over here, so thank you for your patience. I could have made this a longer chapter and not posted until the weekend, but thought I'd show my gratitude for all you wonderful and appreciative people with a holiday posting._

_Author's Second Note: Slight smut warning. The big moment you are waiting patiently for happens in the next chapter, so sit tight._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of show's dialogue will be used._

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Sirius120, ShyL, micmoc, Alottalove, Embers and Flames, Haleycc Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, Touch the Dark, ValidescopeWest, Mike13z50, Rachel, Cavementftw, ammuna, kzal, Cantanatova, marty powell, Sanity Fair, BLade Redwind, Clara Johnson, Maire Ailbhe, and Illusera._

_Thankful for all of you!_

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XVI **

_Day Seventeen..._

"We can't possibly hold this at the Council Headquarters." Giles protested. "It'd be bringing the headsman down on on all of us."

"We're not going to. We're going to meet in Fallow's family home."

"All the way out there? That must be a three hour train journey. I have had quite enough of public transport for a few days..."

"True." Abby tossed his cigarette carelessly out the cab's window. "But if you were looking for some great big secret meeting to take place- you'd never look in Yorkshire, would you?"

"He has a point."

"We have to pick up Ginny. We'll take our car from the flat and follow you. Then we're good to go."

"You may be." Giles mumbled heavily. "I'm a nervous wreck." _I do hope everyone is bearing up._

* * *

"This wood is full of her blood." The Chieftain ran his tongue over bark and scratched his talons over the earth. Around him, four of his brethren did the same.

"Full of the vampire's blood as well."

"Strange. As if they fought many times. There's blood that is days old, and blood that is weeks old. Not much of it, either. As if they didn't intend to mortally wound."

"Halflings." One of the lesser beings scoffed. "Demons in human shells, always playing with their wretched former selves and those like them."

"From here they headed south. About five days ago, I believe the old human said."

"He can't really trap us between realms, can he?" One dared to ask.

"He summoned us. He has the book."

"He didn't stink of human magic, like the others who've summoned us have."

"No. He stank of human evil. And madness. I wouldn't eat him. Not even if I were starving." He inhaled again, and sucked on a piece of torn limb. "Call up the winds- raise the southern gales- bring me her scent."

* * *

"Are we driving into town today?" Buffy asked when she emerged from her shower.

"Not unless you want to drive in this." Spike pulled back the red checked curtains. Buffy gasped and tried to stop him from flambeing himself- only to have her cry die in mid shout. The sky was gray, slate. She look around the cabin and back out the window, puzzled.

"Did the clocks stop?"

"Nope, it's two in the afternoon." He chuckled. "Looks like it's six at night, huh?"

"More storms? Not more hail." Buffy groaned.

"No, just a ruddy great windstorm. Blown the clouds right across the sun an' won't let up. We're gonna lose power if it keeps up like this." A tree bent, and several branches snapped as they peered out the window. "Don't think I fancy drivin' down a mountain in this."

"Do you think it's strong enough to tip the car?" Buffy asked anxiously.

"No. Just bein' cautious." He said, crossing his arms tightly, to keep from touching her. They didn't touch during the day. They acted normal- for them- until those hours well after nightfall and heading towards dawn, a few stolen hours between harsh realities. That just seemed to be the way things had happened, and it'd continue to happen like that.

Unless of course the power went out... then he might resort to other forms of entertainment.

"Yeah. That's better. To be cautious."

* * *

The wind storm kept up, and the temperature went down. The general feeling of oppressive waiting was heightened, and then completely realized as the power went off.

"Shit!" Spike cursed vigorously as a grainy image disappeared from the screen. "I'm never gonna learn what Marcella's dying words were."

"They'll play flashbacks." Buffy closed the dictionary. "I think I'm going to call Mom and see how- no. Maybe I should wait for them to call us. If the Council guys are stalking around." She trailed off and chewed on her nails. "I thought they were good, you know? Boring, uptight... uptight." She shook her head and looked at him, as he sat beside her on the couch, smirking to himself. "But _good_. okay, I thought Travers was a jerk, but not the rest, and suddenly..." she sighed heavily. "Giles doesn't even think anyone knows what Travers is really doing."

"They don't. He sent a team of eight heavily armed suits to ask me to take a phone call. They didn't even know what he was askin', he told 'em not to listen in, that the call should be taken in private." He lit up a cig, just to kill the time, just to avoid thinking about other things they could do to kill the time- because only one thing was leaping to mind. "As far as the world knows- you're missin' in action, an' this is a search and rescue."

"That makes me feel worse! They think Giles is a bad guy, or that I'm bad- just running away from my job- and I'm not. I'm not." She repeated softly, trying to convince herself.

"That's right, Slayer, you're not." Spike echoed firmly, almost harshly, as if mad at her for questioning it.

"It's annoying." Buffy flopped back, like her spine had deserted her, limp and huffy. "They think I'm running, or he's hiding me, or my family is in on some conspiracy- and the sick part is they're right. But they don't know their boss is the one making it happen! They put themselves in danger, and I put everyone I care about in danger... I even put _you_ in danger." _Uh-oh. When did my rant go wrong?_

_She cares about me? No. Not like that. I'm just the add on to the list of bad events. Still._ "Oi._ I_ put me in danger. An' no offense, but you like to take all the blame, you know that. Give it back to the bloke what owns it for once. Travers. If I hadn't told him he was a fool and a bully for tryin' to take you out, for turnin' on you when you'd never done anything but help him, when you were the best they'd ever had and even_ I _bloody well knew it, I would have-"

"Wait. You told him all that?" Buffy sat back up, eyes suddenly shining in the dimness.

"That wasn't the point. You interrupted. You do that. It's part of your overactive mouth problem." Spike grouched and blew smoke at her.

"You're the expert." Buffy smiled a large false smile as she flicked the edge of his smoke, sending hot ash all over him, making him curse around the cigarette and jump.

"Point being," he snarled, "even if I hadn't tipped off your old man, even if he hadn't convinced me to play for your side this time, I'd still be in danger, because I'd have been workin' for him, huntin' you down, and you'd have staked me by now."

"Still might happen." Buffy muttered to herself.

He was standing, brushing off sparks and glowering at the floor, away from her.

She stayed on the couch, sullen and glaring at her hands as they rested on her stomach.

_She was feelin' bad. Worried about everyone. I haven't worried about Dru, how she is , what she's doin', who she's doin' it with- in a week. Too busy with the blonde molotov cocktail. An' not like Dru worries about me. She prolly still talks about me, sings to her dollies about her Sweet William, all the fun we had- and then rips their pretty little heads off. She's good at that. _

_ He was just trying to say I didn't have to blame myself. That I'm right. Travers is the King of Poop Brains. Wow. Spike saying I'm right. If the world hadn't been about to end two weeks ago, I'd say it was apocalypse time. _

_ She's just like I am. Too much heart, tries to fix everything, take everything on herself. Like me. Tried to fix myself an' a poet's bad night of heartache, tried to fix Mum, tried to fix Dru- still tryin'. An' I snarl at her like she slapped me, instead of carin' for me a little bit._

_ Sometimes I need a kick. Who else is going to do it? There's no one else around and he- he has my back. For real. When you see your friends falling and you get them back on their feet, anyway you have to..._

"Thanks."

"Sorry, Slayer."

"I didn't mean to."

" 'Preciate it."

"Huh?" A chorus of confusion that gave way to rueful smiles.

"I get it." Buffy said quietly after taking a second to figure out what he was apologizing and appreciating about.

"You, too." He gave her a jerked nod. "Look... it's dark enough for yours truly to go out, an' I need a drink. Rather go out now in this bluster than when it's night proper, don't like leaving you. Alone. Here. With the power out an' the bad guys circlin'." He clarified.

Buffy nodded. The wind howled._ I'm a slayer. Isolated cabins with no power _

_in wolf infested woods are no big deal. I'm totally lying. _ "Be careful."

"I will."

Neither moved, scanning the other from the corner of their eyes.

"Been sleepin' a lot." Spike tossed out.

"Bored. Depressed. Whatever." Buffy shrugged. Not sleeping much at night since we seemed to have found other fun but troubling pursuits.

"Not the best conditions for sparrin', but..."

"Maybe we could just take a walk?"

He rebelled. _Walkin' along, elbow in elbow, all that's missing is the monocle and lace gloves. _He'd wanted that once. Still wanted something similar. He shoved the suggestion off angrily. "Walks are for grannies and -"_ Couples_. "Wimps."

Buffy closed her eyes and decided sometimes there are reasons you should just shut up. "Okay. Bye." She rolled onto her side, facing the backrest of the couch, shoulders closing her in, huddling herself inside.

_Sod it. Sod it, sod it, sod it all_. "Now, if you were to be helpful with the huntin'..." He offered, knowing this would be the most annoying and loud, outraged noised inducing suggestion possible- short of eating a ranger.

"EEWWW! No!" Buffy rolled over so furiously she crashed of the edge. "Ow. No, I will not help you shoot a deer. I don't mind- I guess- that you do it, but I don't want to watch it or see it or help with it or anything." She hurriedly stood as she shot out her disagreement.

"Well, I have to eat." Spike was torn between wanting her nearby and needing something to keep the demon quiet._ Or I could have both_. "Unless you care to donate a pint? Even a half?" He kept the suggestive but brutish tone in his voice because he didn't want her to know how much he would love that. How much it would change things. Mainly because there are truths spoken in jests, and he knew she'd say no, and this way he was already prepared for it.

_I don't like when he hunts, I don't like when he leaves. I- no. Never. _"Don't joke around. A cup wouldn't even begin to-"

"Slayer blood is different. Few sips of you, Sweetie, and I'd be full for days." It was sort of true- but he was the only vampire he knew of who'd gotten to test the theory. Maybe "full" was an exaggeration. "Sustained" was accurate. He could sip her like expensive champagne, he'd never go hungry and she'd never miss it.

_I already gave all my blood- almost- to Angel. The Master took enough to make me pass out. I've been bitten to kill, and bitten to save. Taken. Given. Would it really be so bad if I shared a little? _

_ Yes. Yes, it would._ "No." Buffy whispered, eyes wide and serious, looking through him.

She'd thrown him off. First by not flatly refusing, and then by reacting calmly and dispassionately. Girl wasn't quite herself.

"How 'bout you keep me company? No kill needed, I'll handle that. You just walk with me. Wasn't such a bad idea after all."

Buffy nodded vaguely in his direction and left the chilly room to retrieve her coat.

* * *

Gray clouds scudded and sank. In the far distance, supersensitive ears could hear faint sirens. "Mountain rescue trucks, prolly. Or workin' on the power. Or the wind took down enough trees to block the road."

_Cut off. Cut off was good. They can't get in. We can't get out._ "Hm." Buffy answered, snuggling deeper in her coat.

"California girl." Spike sniggered, watching her burrow into her battered jacket.

"It's June. It should be hot, okay?" She reminded him of her opinion waspishly.

"If you say so, Luv." He pricked his ears up and listened. No rustles. "Deer are in the thicket. Or near water prob'ly." He scouted around, hands thrust in pockets. "Gonna climb up the chunk of mountain we got in the backyard." He grinned at her, down at her footwear. "For one of the best fighters in the universe, you sure don't dress the part."

"Yeah, well, you look perfect for role of sadistic jerk with mocking problem." Buffy trudged after him, determined if he could do it, she could do it. Up to and including hurting a furry little forest animal.

"Snarking, Pet. The term is 'snarking'." He caught her by the elbow and helped her up as her heel caught in a branch.

"Can the term be 'shutting up'?" Buffy nonetheless didn't shake off his hand, using her other hand to grip his shoulder as he tugged.

"Amen." He muttered, and dropped his arm absently over her shoulders as she leveled herself out. "Never tried up the east path, gonna try that- an' yes, I'm bloody shutting up! You too! Another word an' I'll push you back and let the twigs have you for their queen."

Buffy rolled her eyes but kept her mouth shut.

They went three or four steps before they realized where his arm was.

_But if I talk, he'll 'snark'."_

_ Bloody hell, how'd that happen? Didn't even notice it. An' right after I make a big deal about shuttin' our mouths._

_ It doesn't matter. Nothing we do really matters here, in our little side trip off the reality path. _Buffy snuck a glance at him. His arm began to lift and she reacted automatically- shifted into him.

_It's natural. It's unnatural, it's wrong- but it feels right. Warm against me. Only she's shivering again._ "Build you a fire when we get back inside."

"Aren't you afraid of sparks?"

They collided, halting as the implicit meaning of her words penetrated.

He swallowed, stalled, a lightly quivering hand fumbling for a lighter and a smoke. "I dunno." He lit up. "Play with fire all the time." The flame danced before their eyes.

"Me, too." She admitted, looking through the yellow taper, into dark blue eyes. _I got burned. _

_ So did he._

He left his arm around her, hand draping across her middle back. Together they climbed their piece of mountain.

* * *

The Chieftain picked up a piece of splintered rail swept haphazardly alongside a dumpster. He inhaled and frowned. "Two vampires. This one-" He picked up a broken wooden point and touched its rust colored tip, "is the one we found mingling with the Slayer. We're on the right path."

"What if the vampire went a separate way from her after visiting this-" one of the lesser clansmen asked as he looked at the flickering neon, "this cesspool of human fluids?"

The demons, hiding in the shadows, nodded all around, and exchanged disdainful looks, their leader's frown the most disgusted of all. "Do you think it likely? After they frequented this breeding den?"

"Why two vampires then, and none of her blood?"

"Travers set one on her trail to kill her- and one was fighting to protect her. But the winds are still rising. More blood flows. I can smell him. Sickeningly human... If we find him, we'll find her."

* * *

"I hope you can find something to stalk soon, because my toes are going numb." Buffy jumped around on the wind-flattened grass at the top of the rocky peak.

"Yeah, I think we can head down now. There're a couple bucks and six or seven doe over to the west there." He pointed out in a hushed voice. "Just have to weed one out. C'mon, work our way down this section."

"Thank God. I need hot chocolate and hot soup and- oh. No power."

"I can make you some hot water and toast over the fire. But unless you bought those other things with you-"

"We need our store trip, like yesterday." Buffy groaned.

"I can bring you a nice leg of buck." Spike laughed and then slammed to halt in mid step. "Shh."

"What?" Buffy peered around him.

"SH!" He hushed, and pointed down. "They must've just got here."

"Who- oh." Buffy smiled and frowned in turn. "People."

An RV was now parked in the distance, down the opposite of the peak, far too far away for the occupants to notice two shadowy figures with their binocular-like eyes.

"Poor saps. They're gonna blow away in this wind."

"Look, they have kids!"

"How can you tell?"

"Three little pink bikes. Three girls."

Spike smiled. "Dru was one of three sisters."

Buffy watched him get a sad smile on his face, quickly replaced with a cemented scowl. It worried her. Their presence in general worried her. "We better stay away from this area. They won't come over to our side will they? Or to the lake?"

"Not likely, they'll keep to this side of the mountain unless they want to hike for miles, which has to be a hassle with three tiddlers. Shouldn't bother us at the lake either, there's a creek over there." Spike muttered and pointed, eyes squinting, glinting in the dark. "They'll like that. The kiddies."

Watching him eyeing the only other humans for miles made a recently hibernating protective instinct kick in. _Innocents over vampires. Always. _"Hey- no people eating!" Buffy suddenly hissed and pulled him off to the side, hard,

Big mistake. They toppled and skidded, skinning themselves up, falling a dozen yards down the rough rocky terrain.

Spike seethed as they landed at the nearest base on the slope. He thrashed his way upright, and then over top of her, straddling her waist and shaking her shoulders. "You tryin' to get yourself killed?" He growled. _I'd lose you. Lose everything if you die, you idiotic bitch._

"You were staring at that family and -"

"I wouldn't hurt her sisters!" Spike spat, almost slapping her on her already bruised and bleeding cheek. She looked up at him with confused, frightened eyes for a second. "I mean- I would. But not _now_. Not right now."

"They're three random kids. They're not her_ sisters_, Spike. They're not Dru's." Buffy called him on his slip of the tongue.

He knew that. He knew it was an irrational gut reaction- and he knew part of it was guilt about how little he'd been pining for his mistress and maker. She'd moved on, yes, but he had always believed he never would, even after all the things talking with Slayer made him realize.

He got angry. Instead of being angry at himself, it was easier to be angry at the past. "No. They would've died, ages ago, of old age if nothing else. But they didn't get the chance. Didn't get to finish growin' up together. Because Angelus - well, you don't need to hear exactly what he did, you don't need the nightmares tonight, when you can't turn on the lights, Precious. I won't be hurtin' any humans while I'm on watchdog duty. Thought you knew that already." He spat and stalked off.

Buffy lay there, in the dirt and rock, wincing and shaking her head. _Talk about association and Freud and- stuff. _

She picked herself up after a moment of half-stunned reflection._ Angel always said the worst thing he ever did was what he did to Drusilla._

_ But Spike is the one trying to fix it. Because he loves her. Angel just hated himself. _

_ Spike totally flew off the handle, over _nothing.

_ But I can totally see his point. He's trying to clean up someone else's problems. I know first hand that can put you in a crappy mood. Isn't that the Slayer song? I mean- I have to do it 'cause, well, evil and no more world equals bad. He's trying to help the person who hurt him and cheated on him and left him. He's still trying to help the one who betrayed him, abandoned him._

_ I know how he feels._

"Oh God. Now I have to go help him hunt a deer..." Buffy shook a fine shower of rocks and grassy dirt out of her hair and ran after him.

* * *

"Get away from me. This is the messy part." Spike dispensed with the crossbow, he wanted something to fight and grind into the earth. His eyes yellowed and he lunged into the thicket.

Buffy closed her eyes, swallowed her meager lunch which was suddenly on a reverse trajectory, and followed the crashing.

* * *

She waited until he was absorbed in the aftermath, when his fangs retreated and his animal like grunts faded to ragged breathing. She still had her eyes closed. "I get why you went straightjacket loony bin vamp on me."

"Fuck off." He knew he was being unreasonable. It touched a nerve, and she'd blundered into it.

"A hundred years after they died, she still freaks out about it. Why? Don't vamps kill their families?"

"Yes." _Another nerve. Set me on fire already. See? Played with a spark, gonna be royally roasted. _

"But Drusilla's different?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Would you like an antler through your eyeball? I can make it happen."

Buffy turned slowly to face him, speaking over the still howling wind. "_Why_?"

He gave in with a vicious whisper. "Here's the thing. Dru isn't quite right. That was why she was Angelus' _masterpiece_." He treated her to a poisonous look. "He made sure she was completely mad, mentally destroyed. _Then_ he turned her. I've told you this before. Some things change, some things stay the same when you turn. Madness is one you can't shake, even with death. So- he trapped her like that, rotting in fresh grief, torture, slaughter- more things you don't need to know about." He watched her face slide into a look of sick curiosity, and he knew her imagination would serve Angelus up more horribly than anything he could tell her. "She can't grieve her human losses. She can't enjoy the kill as a vampire. She can't finish grieving, or start feeling the victory over human ties."

"After all this time?" Buffy whispered.

"Oh no, nothing so simple." He said bitterly. "One year, not a peep about her family, one year, she giggles and says she knows they would have tasted so sweet, and she's sorry she never got to see for herself." Buffy backed up, the heat in his voice growing and he was growing with it, moving forward, out of his crouch, away from the lifeless form on the ground. "Oh yes, she's quite happy most of the time, as she walks her little tightrope of insanity. Then there'd be days- usually after Angelus or Darla did something to upset her- or maybe she'd see three sisters together-" he gave her a nasty, pointed smile, "that she cried her heart out, and ripped at her chest, called their names and asked over and over why it happened, and why she can't understand these feelings. _These feelings_." He stopped. "Hard to understand _feelings_ when you can't catch 'em in your mind long enough to sort 'em out." He waited for her to say something. Nothing. She nodded in silence.

"You won't hurt them."

"I _would've_." He lied. "If it wasn't a deal breaker between us."

_There shouldn't be a 'between us'. There is now, probably why he's so edgy. Subject change. _"Are you full?"

"Enough."

"Go back?"

"Yeah."

* * *

"I skinned my hands." Buffy brushed off her hands and face.

"Got a hoof in the solar plexus. Gonna have a nice little cloven welt."

"Can we go in?"

"Sure." He sighed. "I'll make you a fire."

"Thanks."

They moved back through the forest, the screech of the wind making it easier to keep quiet. Lots of things made it easier to keep quiet.

They never did things the easy way. "We can take a picnic and people watch tomorrow if the power's still out." Buffy offered an olive branch.

"What, and burn to death?"

"We can take that big beach umbrella in the closet. C'mon, you're ancient, must know how to use one of those lady sun shade things."

"Parasol?"

"Yeah, that."

"You're weird, Slayer."

"We both are. Strange. Remember? The anthem?"

He whistled tunelessly for a few paces, then it turned into sotto voce singing, "People are strange, when you're a stranger... women seem wicked, when you're alone."

She cut him off, but not verbally. Hand coming to tentatively rest on his back.

_Not alone right now._

"We need to stop doin' this to each other." Spike said grimly.

"I don't know how to- how to do this. Or not this." Buffy confessed, finding the slick leather vanishing from her fingers as he turned. _I don't even know what "this" is. _Her half-raised arm hung in the air, then fell self-consciously. Spike caught it.

"I have a radical thought." He smirked in a way that didn't reach his eyes. "We'll stop hurtin' each other. Maybe make the pain go away instead." He swallowed. "Day an' night."

Her insides twisted. She had no idea how late it was now, but it was well into the night. At night, things changed

"Deal."

* * *

_Day Eighteen..._

They'd washed up best they could, and she drank the rest of the milk before it spoiled, and ate her usual cold sandwich while Spike bullied and threatened a fire to life in the living room fireplace.

"You better sleep out here. The temperature isn't gonna rise until sun up, and that bedroom's got no insulation." Spike didn't mind the cold. He tossed a pillow and blanket on the couch. She nodded and walked past him, returning with a second pillow and the thick comforter from the bed.

_Two pillows. Padding. Oh yes._

As one they prepared the area. She spread the blankets on the floor with a fluttering pulse that seemed to drown out every other sound to his ears. He shoved the couch back to make room, feeling his groin and his chest tighten.

"Tired?" He finally managed to say around his sealing throat.

"No." She admitted.

* * *

They were offering each other something. Themselves. He did the first gesture, as he had so often in his life, coming up beside her in the flickering firelight, kissing her gently, bruised cheek to gashed skin. She nodded into his touch, and deft fingers, usually so nimble, fumbled with her shirt.

She pushed him away to lift it off herself. Then for some reason, kept going, swallowing hard, and avoiding his eyes as she slid off her jeans next, then socks, hesitating at her simple bra.

"You'll get cold." He said dazedly. _Slayer's undressing for me. Backlit by fire. Some little fire spirit herself, all sunset oranges and pretty peach glow. _He jerked his dirt streaked black shirt over his head, convoluted reasoning in his mind telling him he had to be equally bare or it wasn't even, that it was some sort of violation of unspoken terms.

"You'll keep me warm." Her tongue was thickening in her mouth, making it hard to talk as she watched him, standing just out of the fire's glow, white glimmer in black shadow, more and more white revealing as black clothes gave way to alabaster skin.

"No heat." He reminded her, stepping forward, brushing a hand against her smooth skin.

"Feel pretty hot to me." She gasped, and reached back, three bra hooks popped apart, breasts falling free.

He caught them as though they were precious and would shatter if not cradled. Hand and arm under them across her torso, head bowing to hers, and bowing to place soft kisses on each one.

The bowing became a double arch collapsing, damaged bodies sinking to the bedding on the floor. Her panties were removed by his hand at the center and hers on the sides.

Things always go so well when we have a common goal, Buffy thought hazily, as their hands united, and then realized they hadn't discussed where the goal was going. But after all he said about Drusilla- it had to be obvious he didn't want her in this way. Well, _shouldn't _want her in this way.

"Never been with anyone like you." Spike murmured in her ear, shaking his head. "Is it a good guy thing? When you give and you give, and it's selfless?"

Buffy looked up at him as he rose on his elbows above her. "How can it be? You're just the same, and you're not a good guy." She lightly stroked his hair.

"Maybe we're nothing but strange."

"As long as you're with someone, it's okay to be whatever, I guess." Buffy replied as his lips worked their cool magic over her tight throat.

Hands sought and clenched and kisses dragged on, fondling dragged on... nothing further, each waiting for some explicit signal that they should rekindle things of the other night, or move onto more.

His signal from her was the blood that wouldn't be silenced, pounding and pooling into the arteries between her thighs as her delicate folds swelled and engorged with unmet needs.

She could feel drips and strings of sticky wetness across her legs and her stomach, knowing he was aroused enough that his body'd decided to start the prep work to ease them together.

So... we must need to make "together" happen, Buffy realized dreamily, lulled by his kisses and the fire's warmth.

Maneuvering slowly, unspeaking, kissing unceasingly so they couldn't let any words escape- they moved into position, her underneath, solidly, squarely underneath.

_Third time's the charm..._

Her face muscles were so tense she might have been carved from silken granite, whereas his face wore a look of such stricken intensity that she wondered if he might be about to lose all control if one thing upset his concentration.

"Are you sure?" He finally managed to breathe out.

"No." She whimpered, arching under him as his head came to rest on hers. "You?"

"No."

He collapsed onto her, and took comfort in her warmth. "God, Luv, I'm sorry."

Buffy relaxed with a rush of air. "Don't be." He kissed her. One of those real kisses. Eye opening kisses. "Hey?" She asked after their lips slowly parted.

"What, Buffy?"

_My name. My real name. Although with him- I feel like Slayer is my real name, too. He makes me feel so much confidence sometimes- just not about this one part. But- _"If we're both not sure together...?"

He loved her for just a split second, for her willingness and her steadfastness, and that scared to try but try anyway spirit. It was for a moment less than a blink. It made his world flip upside down like the view in the camera's shutter, so fast he didn't "see" it. "What the hell, yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, no. I mean... there's wanting versus knowing." She tried to explain.

It'd be easier if they'd had more partners between them. Bodies weren't ready to go to autopilot, too long ruled by hearts."You knew with him. That first time."

Buffy looked into his eyes. "I loved him. That first time." _So how can the second time be so different, with no love at all? Maybe it's like that sometimes_. "Did you love her? That first time? I mean, you didn't really date, you-" She trailed off, unsure what had actually happened, how you can go from being someone's victim to someone's lover, how much time it had taken.

Spike gave a faraway smile "I loved her from the first words she ever said to me, from the second she said effulgent." He sighed.

Buffy's jaw popped open as she looked both embarrassed and indignant. "Doesn't that mean you have gas?" She whispered.

He laughed instead of being justly annoyed, as he ought to have been. The laugh boomed and rippled, and he shook his head.

"I'm going to guess no." Buffy said under the guffaws. "You can stop making fun of the language challenged girl now."

He bit her neck, softly, playfully, an animalistic gesture of affection. "It means nothin' like what you said." He became more serious. "It means she could see my glow and I could see hers." They smiled as one. "Yeah, I loved her the first time."

"In love the first time. Like it's supposed to be." Buffy's turn to look far away and wistful.

"That's right."

_Look how well _that_ turned out..._

They shared the hesitant thought that maybe sometimes, like everything else about them and their lives, this had a twist to it. Maybe you didn't have to start in love to finish in- well, to be happy at the end.

_Who knows, it doesn't matter._

_ What matters is us, now._

"It'll be okay, Baby." Spike murmured.

"We'll be fine." She nodded, and lifted her lips to his mouth, and he lifted her hips to his.

"I have you." He reassured. _I will have her. All the way. Deep parts and secrets and heart thudding under mine. _

_ But she has me, too. Oh God, she'll have me too..._

Soft hands sank down his back, desperately clinging. "I know you do."

This time it was comforting. _She has me, too._

* * *

To be continued...


	17. Chapter 17

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Smut warning! This chapter is all smut and violence with a few moments of lovely realization, if I may call it such._

_Author's Second Note: Picks up immediately from the end of the previous chapter. I recommend going back and reading the last few pages of that and just flowing right into this._

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Sirius120, micmoc, Alottalove, Embers and Flames, Haleycc Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, Touch the Dark, ValidescopeWest, Rachel, Cavementftw, ammuna, Cantanatova, marty powell, Sanity Fair, DragonMouse,Seapea, Blade Redwind, Clara Johnson, Maire Ailbhe, Illusera, kasumi. EFP, and Avarand._

_Wow! You are an **amazing** crew of readers and reviewers. Thank you all._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XVII**

_Day Eighteen..._

His hand parted her lips, slicked her wetness gently over and around them, finger then pushed in. She immediately gripped him with her grasping walls. "So tight."

"Or it just remembers your fingers are freaking awesome." Another giggle, to mask her tension.

"Want me to warm things up down there?" Spike waggled inside.

She clung to him with a sudden convulsive shake, long cold afternoon and evening and bowstring tension in her muscles fighting their way off.

He felt a stab of concern, even though he knew she was the strongest woman in the world. She was something soft and yielding for now."Pet..."

"It's okay." It wasn't. "Make it okay?"

He looked into her eyes, hand slipping out and working with this other to raise himself. " 'S right, Baby, gonna be okay." _For both of us. This'll kill the time, the ache- the need._

She rested a hand on his cheek, eyes unrelentingly locking. Her tunnel spasmed tightly in anticipation, and her breathing lost its rhythm. _This is the part where a couple should say they love each other. "I love you, I love you, too." Something like that._ _Hearts join before bodies. We have nothing to say._

He pushed against her, making both of them gasp. No penetration, just a hard nudge. "Tight." He stated the obvious. _Hell. Just shut up. _He kissed the corner of her mouth.

"Mmhm." _He's big._ Big as Angel at least, though in her one and only time of touching him, it had been dark, and that length had been an optimistic effort for a virgin to accommodate. She didn't feel the same sense of trepidation this time, or the same kind of desire.

But there was trust, and want, and need. She kissed him back as he clumsily lifted her hand to her mound and slid it down. She got the message, and let her fingers wrap around him, push him down a bit as she lifted her hips.

"Might stick a bit." Spike apologized in advance.

"I know." She assured him. His hand took over from hers and rubbed his tip all over her swelling lips and in a hard, fleshy circle to her clit. She spasmed up, he slipped down, and her hand tugged at his hipbone.

He broke the surface with a tight, slick thrust, hearing her sharp intake of breath and realizing his own was even higher pitched.

_She's hurting._

_ He's grieving._

_ Never was supposed to happen. _

_ Comfort. _

"Shhhh, shhhh, I got you, Baby." He cradled her, by default pushing in further as she groaned softly underneath him.

"It's good, it's okay, Spike." _It's just until someday._ She might be the one physically struggling but he had a wounded, worried look in the depths of his blue eyes. She just couldn't tell if it was for her, or for himself and all he was letting go of.

* * *

There was a second or two of fevered adjusting while trying not to move. "Can you take more?" He asked, hip bones grating unevenly.

"I want all of you."

He seemed to wake up.

"Want all of you, too." He informed her, informed them both.

Something happened, in the space of a second, and they heard it, but didn't understand it. Their bodies did though. She relaxed, and he recharged.

"You feel so good. Warm and wet and I'm gonna make this good for you."

_Never thought about that. Making it "good" for someone. _The first time it was just enough that it had happened, and she hadn't exactly been the equal partner. "It'll be good for- both of us." Her phrase broke in the middle, as he shifted into her, making her walls strain._ Okay, maybe more good for him than me..._

He saw the grimace, heard the catch. "Wanna be on top? You can- hm. You can control it a bit better." He offered with an almost shy tone.

"No, I like this for now." She admitted. Little painful, but she felt safe. His body over hers. Bodyguard, almost-human shield. _In more ways than one, I guess._ She smiled suddenly, a genuinely happy look without reservations.

"Hey there, Beautiful." Her smile was contagious and disarmed him.

_Beautiful. He's got a beautiful smile. I can't call Spike beautiful._ "Hey yourself."

* * *

_Open for him, he won't hurt you._

Spike felt her legs make widening shifts against the comforter, and he wedged himself in deeper, deeper, then pulled back, all the way out.

"Why?" Buffy gasped.

"Help you." He answered briefly, and was down between her legs, head bobbing briefly, tonguing circles around her nub and opening, his fingers in his mouth and then inside her, probing, curling up. "Should have started like this."

He was trying to make her loosen, make her quivering little chasm beg for more. It worked. She twisted under him and around him and half sat up.

"Come back." Buffy requested with a note of lustful pleading.

He'd waited for decades to hear a woman whisper that to him, instead of his own voice begging that of someone else. He was in her, he was home, in a second.

Buffy smiled in relief. That felt better, more relaxed, now pleasingly full instead of uncomfortably tight. "You're bad." She laughed softly in his ear.

"Oh, yeah, _that's_ where we know each other from. I used to be your local baddie." He laughed back.

"No, not like that." She rolled her eyes. "You made me want you." _Sexually. I should mention that. _

_Why tell half-truths? _A little voice purred, and she left the sentence as it was.

"Mutual." Bloody hell, so tight, so very hot, so very wet on this second attempt at entry. "Wanted you like this for awhile."

Buffy gasped under him, feeling him surge, splitting her open all the way back where she felt herself run out of room. "You did?"

"Think so." He paused inside her, looking down. His hairs merged with hers, her fire-copper thighs locked around his cream hips. _Fuck, look at this. Staked the Slayer, split her open._ _She's beautiful. Beautiful._

She nodded without words, too busy feeling anything but the mounting pressure as he held still inside her, all the way inside her. She knew nothing had been in this far before, a thick cock now touching that tender spot his fingers had discovered for her.

"We look good together." He finally murmured, running one hand across her chest, bringing it to where they locked.

"We do." She agreed.

"What's wrong?" He was offering little snippets of reassurance and praise and she was staring at him, an unreadable look on her face.

"I can't- uh- Oh God." She flopped her head to the side with a shudder.

"You can't?" Tease. He was angry, then resigned. Not like he hadn't had the same thoughts before. He gently eased back.

"No!" Buffy crisscrossed her ankles frantically,halting him.

"No? What is going on? Speak, Slayer." He growled, confused.

"I can't explain it. I just- you're big, and you need to stay in but you need to- ah-" She rubbed her lower abdomen, "you need to move or something. I can't think right now, okay?" Not thinking was a welcome relief.

_Ohhh. Well, obviously, pillock. Million times to one here, she's not gonna be fluent in body language. Until she gets a little practice. Bet the other one was all silence and shudders, makin' her think it was some quiet, sacred practice. Maybe when you're in love. Not like this. _ "Feelin' full?" He gave her a playfully evil smirk and jutted up into her.

Buffy groaned. "Play nice, I'm new at this."

"My thoughts exactly." He rocked into her. "Like this?"

"Very." She relaxed as his tip caressed her insides in a slick quick thrust.

"Relax. We got each other. Gonna be fine."

* * *

_ It's just us. And there's really nothing to lose right now, because everything we're worried about losing is already gone. And it stays gone forever, or until this "job" is done. _

_ Might as well give in._

So they gave, shut off the noises in their heads and hearts.

When you do that, sometimes you can hear new sounds.

* * *

Her wetness lapped at him like the soft waves in the lake. A welcoming sound, proof that he made her feel good.

His ever present gloating and snarking turned into quiet huffs. She liked the sound of the puffing against her ear, primal female satisfaction that she had him working hard against her, evidence of his desire.

Thudding of body to body, getting harder, fading, getting harder again.

Thudding of her heart and almost silent moans turning into stifled cries.

"Soon?" He spoke the first word in minutes.

"Yes." She replied in a dizzy sounding voice, lost in pleasure. A few moments later it occurred to her that she was probably supposed to ask him the same thing. "You?"

"Can. But I'm enjoyin' this." He gave her a crooked, almost bashful smile, even as his body was shamelessly stealing her juices, making a puddle beneath them.

"Ohhhh, me too."

"Really? No- no sticky bits?" He allowed a finger to ease across her short curly thatch.

"Nope." She smiled contentedly. "Just- wow."

He increased his efforts. Wanted to turn contentment into something more, and then maybe while she was riding the peak, he'd find his own.

* * *

The tight feeling came back inside her, but it was a different kind of tight. Like the tension of a stretched rubber band waiting to snap instead something too big trying to wedge itself in a too small space. Her body was loving this- and her heart and mind were curiously blank. Probably why it was taking so long.

"Here, let's get you into a different-" Spike pulled at her elbows gently, wondering if she couldn't get enough leverage against the hard wooden floor to reach a full climax.

"No. No, the position is fine. Everything is fine." She smiled faintly, pulling him back down to her.

_Liar. Liar with honest eyes. People who maintain double lives shouldn't be allowed to have eyes like hers. Or maybe I'm the only one who notices it, when she pulls the shutters down._ "Okay then." He knew it was pointless to argue.

He also thought he could figure out how to change it, very simply. He knew it would help her. He was counting on it helping him too.

Buffy watched his hands ease up and down her sides, one cupping her cheek, as his lips descended. One locked his fingertips through hers, and his hips dropped flatly against her, no longer having his arms to support his weight.

Body to body, no space in between, they had to move all of them, gliding, and rocking.

His hand gripped hers tighter and tighter by degrees. She could feel the desperation under the pleasure. The strength too. _And clinging. Just as much as I'm clinging to him. _

"Harder." She whispered around his mouth.

"You, too." He thrust in and waited for the answering recoil of her hips.

She tried to match him, really.

He didn't think so. "You can't hold back on me now, Luv. Not now."

Her hand yanked out of his grasp so both arms could fasten around his neck and hold onto him tight, squeezing like she would never let go, mashing them together in some sort of carnal chaos.

He chuckled, low and smoky in her ear, as his hands latched into the narrow expanse of her waist, then slipped around to hug her completely. She was all his for a minute. No one else's.

"Precious."

"Spike... Spike." Buffy stopped moving with him, and her hands went slack as her orgasm hit. Glassy eyed and half lidded, she shook under him as he pounded away inside her. "Spike, oh God, God, that's - whoa... _whoa_!"

"C'mon, Baby, push down inside, squeeze me hard as you want, it'll-"

"Oh Gooooooodddddd!" A banshee like wail reverberated in the air, and Spike felt like her pussy'd pulled him right into the heart of herself, the hottest, wettest, softest piece of her.

He growled spasmodically as he erupted in hard uneven spurts, deep inside, almost painfully wracking himself inside her. "Holy...I can't breathe."

"You already- can't breathe." Buffy caught him as he fell on top of her, sweating shoulder against her cheek, head over top of hers. "I'm the one who- can't- can't... move?"

"Move?" His muscles wouldn't support the notion- or him.

"Don't you dare." She whispered, hand brushing over his neck. "I meant-_ I_ can't move. What'd you_ do_ to me?"

"Same as you did to me."

Silence. Breathing- or at least body functions such as they were- beginning to regulate. "Good?"

"Amazing." Buffy whimpered slightly as he moved in her, starting to withdraw. "Ow! Stay in, stay." She hissed sharply.

"You relax your grip, Pet." Spike winced himself. "Could take off the equipment."

"I can't relax, you're all- big in there."

Eyes met. "Sometimes it's like that with us super types." He pointed out. Her tight nipples were still poking against his skin. He gingerly rubbed one breast. She didn't push him away, and arched her ribs forward to meet his caressing palm. "See? Body still wants a bit more." He took her nipple between his teeth and tongue and suckled lightly.

"Bodies have been really pushy lately." Buffy's hand crossed over his shoulder and down to his breast as well, hesitating.

"True..." _C'mon, do it, give in a little, explore a little... Of course it's wrong, it's all wrong. It won't matter in the long run, will it?_ He blinked away his guilt, his promises. Break some, make some, salvage what you can.

Buffy's nails scraped lightly down the chest plate of muscle over his heart, and his eyes shot open. "Not like- not like we'll get too many chances to do stuff again. Giles is going to be convincing everyone - right now, probably."

"Then I'll get you home safe- drive at night so _I'm_ behind the wheel- that way we don't end up dead after the battle's all done." He smirked and she pinched. He loved it, but he didn't let her see it.

"Never see each other again, right?"

"Right." _Gonna miss her. In that persistent ache sort of way..._

"Right."

The fire sparked and logs crumbled, similar to their resistance.

"Power's still out."

"Bedroom's probably still cold." She was hot underneath him.

"Could go... one more time?"

"I'd like that." Buffy smiled and sighed softly.

"Me, too."

* * *

"They've been near here, too." The Chieftain stood on the side of one of the densely wooded roads leading into the mountain. A ranger station with its flickering yellow sign glowed in the distance. "Her scent is fainter than his here, but overall... a veritable tide of scent."

"Not more than ten or twenty miles." One of his followers licked his blackened, crusty lips. "We can attack them before sunrise, bring Travers news and be back home before we spend another miserable day inside this realm."

"No, no, we wait until after the dawn. The vampire's form can't withstand the sun. Or the fire it sets to his human shell." He clicked his talons together and a small blue flame emerged. "We'll find them tonight, wait in their vicinity, then - separate them. _I_ take the girl."

* * *

"That was good." Buffy rolled to her side with a sigh, and a groan. "I'm going to be walking funny in the morning..."

"Nah, you'll be fine." Spike watched her roll. Perfect little backside on her, too. Was everything about her meant to waken his urges? Nothing like Dru at all and yet suddenly his body craved her just as badly. Physically, of course.

Drusilla'd be so furious at him. Catching him with another female.

_No, don't fool yourself. She'd shake her finger and call you naughty. Probably devise some devilish little punishment for you. Holy water in your whiskey. Fuckin' a human she'd meant for supper. Then she'd giggle and say "Friends now, Sweet William?"_

He rubbed his sinewy hands across his face, through his damp hair. She'd be furious because of it being the Slayer. That'd done her before, his working with her. Now this... She'd never speak to him again.

_She's not speakin' to me now. _

_ Why did it have to be the Slayer?_

Buffy gave him an apprehensive look over her shoulder. He moved instantly, reassuring touch on her back, easy going smile that wasn't rehearsed or forced.

_Because she's as annoyin' as hell. And I can't think of anything I hate about her- that I also don't like just a bit._

* * *

"Um. I - we should shower. Maybe?" Buffy felt him spoon behind her.

"Water'll be icy."

"Not a fan of icy."

"I couldn't tell." He muttered sarcastically into her nape.

The popping of the fire made him groan and rise. "Put on a couple more logs here. Least this place had a few bundles of wood already stored."

Buffy watched him move. Wow. She'd never really seen- well, everything had been dark and under blankets with Angel. But Spike could put sculptures by those Italian guys to shame. Maybe even put Angel to- _Don't think about him. _

_ Why should I? Why waste my time? It just hurts me. And he's not coming back. He wouldn't even come with me in a life or death situation. Which, given the fact that I screwed Spike- who I hate- probably does mean Angel and I would have had some trouble along the lusty wrong things line._

_ Angel would kill me if he ever heard about tonight..._

_ Angel tired to kill me when I never did anything but love him. I killed him. He kinda owes me one. Hey! What happened to not thinking about that?_

Buffy's groan coincided with a curse from Spike as embers burst as he prodded the fire.

"Did I get you?" He asked, sucking on his scorched wrist.

_Completely got me. Different kind of sparks, that's all._ "I'm fine."

He studied her as he sank back down. "No. You're not. 'S okay. I'm not either."

Her heart swelled with gratitude for a moment. For a split second, in the beat of her heart- she loved something about the man beside her._ He doesn't lie to me, and I don't have to lie to him- most of all, I don't have to lie to myself around him._ "I tell myself not to think about him-"

"But how the hell would we not? Know they're not in the picture, but we'd like 'em to be. Try and try and try- then do somethin' like this, with someone like you-"

"Or _you_!"

"An' it doesn't add up."

He sprawled beside her and by default they wriggled and adjusted so they ended up side by side, pressed together, his arm under her neck, her hand lazily on his chest.

"Can't control everything." Buffy whispered.

"No."

"He'd be so mad right now."

"Yeah? What gives him the right?"

"He loves me!"

"So? He walked away from you! _Literally_!"

"You don't think Drusilla cares who you're sleeping with, right?"

"Not as a rule, no." He shifted uncomfortable, having just had this conversation with himself.

"But you care. Why? Because you love her."

"Well- aren't we fools then?" He said bitterly.

"Yeah. Stupid fools for- for all of _this_." Buffy gestured to their bare skins beside each other, and pulled away.

His hand snagged her elbow and snapped her around, making her face him. "Hey! This might've been bloody stupid for a lot of reasons- but I- I don't regret doing it. I can still be mad at myself, mad at the whole fuckin' _world_, and not be mad about makin' love to you." He spat. "Don't you pull away from me, Slayer- we put too much on the line when we did this to walk away now."

Phrases jumbled around in her head from his angry torrent. _Making love. Don't regret doing it. Don't pull away. Can't walk away now. Making love. _

_ We were supposed to stop hurting each other. _

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

His hand went slack. "You didn't- you never could- you didn't." He swallowed. "Made me mad, that's all."

"I wasn't pulling away from you- just from being stupid." She gave him a hint of a crooked, rueful grin.

"Ah, Luv, if only we could ever outrun _that_."

She crashed her head back as her body fell, placing it neatly in the groove of his shoulder as she collapsed. "We're a mess."

"We aren't meant to be together. This sort of thing happens when you put two things that don't mix in one box."

"Guess so." She looked at the orange tinted beams above her head. "Why do you think we keep ending up together then?"

He'd been wondering the same thing. _Because I hunt you. You hunt me. Because we break rules and we're smart. We know it's better to use what you've got than die from not crossin' the line. _

_ Because with a little bit of work, you'd be so much of what I wished for, and well, I dunno if you make wishes, but I was always damn good at tryin' to make wishes come true. _

"Who knows?" Spike answered.

"Oh." Buffy said in a small voice. There was a lot of wisdom under the jerk-like bastard-ness. "Who knows?" wasn't what she expected.

_Oh for the love of... _"I think it's because we're a pretty good fit."

Also not what she'd expected. But it was true. "We fit together really, really well a little bit ago." She smiled.

"Fit together pretty good right now." He snuggled her closer. She rolled, he rolled with her, until they were curled in front of the fireplace, and Spike folded the blanket over top of them.

"Sleep." He kissed the curve of her ear.

"Will do." She sighed sleepily.

* * *

Buffy and Spike awoke with a startled shout, both flying into fight mode as the lights turned on and the television assaulted them. "El precio bajo, de treinta dólares-"

"Pants!" Buffy shouted, because apparently her main concern was doing battle naked.

Spike, on the other hand, just wanted the noise to stop. He searched around for the remote, couldn't find it since they'd moved everything in the living room around to make it a bedroom for the night, and finally just lunged at the buttons on the telly.

"And goooood morning, Portland, it's five o'clock on this-"

"Clouds and wind continue in the Cascades, despite the high pressure front and warmer-"

"Fishing forecast for the shipping fleets in the Pacific Northwest continue to-"

"God dammit!" Spike howled and considered just picking up the damn box and throwing the thing to silence it as he pushed at the buttons to no avail.

Buffy reached behind the set and yanked the plug. "That was the channel up button. Power is on the right." She said patiently, standing with her shirt from last night clutched in front of her.

Spike nodded. "Your turn to be the smart one today."

"I'm always the smart one." She stuck her tongue out, and they both chuckled.

"And I'm always the muscle?"

"Hmm. Maybe we could share the job." Buffy's throat tightened as he rose from in front of the set, naked and- "That goes down sometimes, right?" She asked wide eyed.

"It used to." Spike followed her eyes. "Pants, Slayer?" He coughed with a touch of bashfulness, though no longer feeling human pangs of modesty, he did find it disconcerting that proof of his arousal was_ so _obvious in front of her. Not like he'd been planning to ravish her around the clock.

Buffy kicked the comforter aside and scanned the floor. "Right. Uh... they must've been near mine- here they are." She bent over and retrieved them.

Behind her, Spike made a muted whimper of protest as she unthinkingly displayed everything, reaching down. Perfect rear splitting to reveal a pink, swollen, ravished pussy that had been the best carnal embrace he'd ever had. His cock ached at the memory.

Buffy stood up and turned around hastily, cheeks on fire. "Spike! Don't! Eww, no checking out my- just no!"

Spike nodded, but looked agonized as he caught the pants she threw at him. "Not my fault you have the goods, Luv. Be blind if I didn't notice you're gorgeous." He turned and made an effort to stuff his erection into his trousers. No good. Zips and bits do not mix. He sighed. "You noticed me this morning." He reminded her.

"Hard not to. Yours sticks... out." Her brain had trouble making sentences as he turned back around, still half exposed. Not so much a visual attraction to her, but a sensual one. How that made her feel, working inside, bringing her gifts of pleasure she'd never known about and giving her new doses of ones she'd thought gone for ever.

"Well, yours makes this sweet little pout. Like it-" He stepped closer to her, mind all fuzzy with lust and olfactory senses spinning out of control as he could smell a fresh wave of Slayer-heat. And something else. Something sweetly familiar, but he couldn't place it yet, not under the pooling of her juice, mixed with traces of his own from their coupling. "Like it's empty an' it's sad..."

"Empty. Not sad." Buffy half-agreed, now chest- to chest. "You could- we could- there could be filling? Up?"

"Mhmm. I could do that. Y'know. Until he goes back down." Spike realized he sounded as stupid and addled as she did. Must need a fix.

_Oh bloody hell, I've only had a few hits of her, I can't be addicted, can I?_

"But not on the floor." Buffy stepped back. "Bed?" She asked, biting her lower lip as she heard herself asking for him to make this a repeat performance.

"Sure, Luv, bed." So adorable with that lip! He traced her chin and her protruding pout with his thumb._ Have to kiss her. Really. She's offerin' me another go round on the best ride ever. _He leaned forward and placed a fairly chaste kiss on her lips. He was rewarded with a sudden, sweet smile. "There's a lot more we can do. With a soft place. No scrapes on your skin." He stroked his hands across her arms, luxuriating in her skin.

Soft bed. New things. With Spike. _Why not? No one but us will ever know. As long as they're nice things. _"Nice things?" Buffy asked, looking up with suddenly half-smoldering, half- pleading green eyes.

"Beautiful things." He assured. _How'd she turn me into mush like that? Proves it. She's the best there ever was. A billion tricks in one sleeve, this girl. Might as well enjoy her. _ He had the nagging realization that she had the strength and spirit he loved, as well as the soft, needy side (usually well concealed) that was his poison. Like Dru.

_Only this one controls it, it doesn't control her. _

_ Fuck, I'm screwed. _

"Beautiful things." Buffy smiled up at him as his eyes drifted away. Her smile left. "We don't have to."

"I want to. I want you so much." He replied automatically, sincerely, hands still on her arms.

"Good. Um. I need a minute. First." She looked down the hall.

_Right. Humans. Bladders. Oh, crap, the power's been off, which means the system's gonna need a reset._ "You do that, I'll take care of primin' the system back up. An' get some more wood, in case the power goes back out."

"Thanks." Buffy kissed him, just a peck, without thinking about it, and darted, still clutching her shirt. "Wait- it's morning."

"Not sunny yet, still cloudy." Spike shrugged. He pulled on his shirt and boots anyway, and grabbed for his coat, no need to feel Mr. Sun if he poked his head out.

"But it's -"

"Slayer- d' you wanna go muck about with pumps and breakers and wood piles full of spiders?"

"Oh. Nope." She vanished. He laughed behind her. "Oh, since you're going out anyway- can you get my other jacket? I think I left it in the car."

He groaned. _One shag and I've been press ganged into fetchin' and carryin'. But my other carton of cigs is in there. _"Alright. Back in a minute."

* * *

They'd scaled the mountain peak, and been all through the woods, and the lake, finally circling and circling down until they were face to face with a small cabin in mediocre condition. "No wards. No magical barriers."

"We could swoop in now. I can feel the sun under the clouds, and as soon as the effects of our spell have faded and the winds cease-"

"No. We wait until the sun is fully up-" The Chieftain paused, watched as the vampire crossed the threshold of the dwelling, smoking a cigarette and whistling jauntily as he headed to the car. "Unless an opportunity presents itself."

* * *

Spike stiffened and inhaled, features instantly transforming. Brimstone. Blood. Fire, ash, sulfur, and cracking bone. Demons.

No demon he knew of personally, but he thought he could probably place them based on that scent. Lived in fire, lived in a world like a human hell. Blood drinkers, but not human blood as a rule.

In the space of two seconds, his agile mind was racing through lists of demons, none of his guesses certain. His eyes scanned the distance- caught a cluster of shadows well hidden in shadows- but shapes in the dark woods didn't line up.

_Hunting party... One didn't work, so Travers must've sent a team. Bollocks. _ He slammed the car door shut, and bolted back into the house.

"Company!" Spike hissed and locked the door, for all the good it would do them.

* * *

"He saw us. Or sensed us."

"We'll have to take the house."

* * *

"Get dressed, get weapons, and put your game face on." Spike caught Buffy in the hall between bathroom and bedroom, naked and surprised.

"Spike-"

"There are demons out there, and I don't know what kind they are, but they ain't friendly, and there's at least two of 'em." Spike followed her as her instincts took over, watching her move faster than he knew she could, slinging on clothes and shoes, stakes appearing from pockets and jamming into waistbands.

"Could you see them? What kills them? What kind?"

"Shadows only, I don't know, and I repeat, don't know." He was kitting up as well. "But my guess is that if they're assassins they're fast, smart, and ruthless. So you'd better be everything they are. Including bloodthirsty."

"I'll leave that part to you." She sassed.

"They want to kill you." He didn't know if she understood that. _He_ was starting to understand that. On a personal level. For once, doing his "job" was not foremost in his mind. It was the fact that they wanted to kill the Slayer. Buffy. Dead. _Not happening._ "Murder you, Slayer, no more alive, you can't count on-"

"Spike. Someone_ always_ wants to kill me." Buffy gave him a grim smile. A crash and a splinter of wood shook the cabin. She moved to the bedroom window, thrust it up, and slid through it. "See? There's someone now." She beckoned him out, and he followed her.

* * *

Of course they didn't leave exits unguarded, but the open ground left more chances to avoid being trapped. "Slayer."

"Hi." Buffy nodded and wrinkled her nose at the purulent smelling creature before her. "I'm Buffy, this is Spike. We'll be kicking your asses this morning."

"Ooh, I liked that." Spike winked at her.

Buffy gave him a perky grin. "I thought it was nice."

"She's here!" The demon howled, and with a rush of black cloaks and flaming coal eyes, five forms surrounded them.

"I must be very important." Buffy grinned.

"You run, when I tell you." Spike muttered from the corner of his mouth.

"What are they?" Buffy hissed back.

"Not from around here, and I think I've seen pictures but-"

"I can hear you quite well. To answer your question- we don't live in your world, we _couldn't_ live in your world for long, as human blood doesn't have enough sustenance in it for us, and there aren't enough other demons in the realm to feed off. Your demons are a society of half-breeds anyway, drinking human kind, and we feed off _pure_ demon, increasing our power daily."

"That'd be the boss guy. You can tell because he likes to talk." Buffy said in a mocking whisper, flapping her hand open and shut like a yapping mouth.

"An' he has the most shinnies on his suit. That type likes showin' off." Spike commented on their lead assassin's metal encrusted cloak.

"We expected you to flee. Do you just trade insults before death?"

"No... I'm still trying to figure out what you are. Your description sucked."

"An' I'm tryin' to figure out where she'd be safe." Spike stepped forward. "Frankly, I'd leave if I were you. Never seen her beat yet, an' she's done some pretty impressive odds." He was casually putting himself between the half circle of their confronters and Buffy. "Ever take on five to one?"

"On a busy night." Buffy was gingerly working herself to the side. "Plus, this is only five to two. So we're going to be fighting over who gets to kill the fifth one, because- I just can't let him win. He is soooo annoying when he wins."

"Psht. C'mon, big guy," Spike was right in front of the leader now, speaking in an overly familiar, almost friendly tone. "Say you'll let me have three. Demon to demon, we can't let the good guys get all the points, can we?"

"How dare you class yourself in the same species as- argh!"

Spike threw his entire weight at him, making him fall back with a hoarse cry, and Buffy tore through the woods in one direction, as Spike leaped over the now fallen form and headed in the opposite direction.

"After them! And no more talk!" The Chieftain stood in a fury. "I'll take the girl, you take a cut off path for her, the rest of you- disable the vampire." He ordered his men, pointing to one and then three. The nodded and moved, like thick patches of smog through the forest.

* * *

Spike followed his nose, running faster than he'd ever run. He had to get back to her, he had to protect her, be there, even if she was fine by herself. His mind didn't take time to process his needs, just followed the chant of "Find her, find her, find her..."

* * *

Buffy slammed into the demon taking the cut off point first. Her stake, her weapon of choice, broke off cleanly in his chest, though he howled in pain and went down. "Not gonna work. Damn." She kept running and slammed into a second form, this one yanking her down into a small ditch created by a massive fallen tree across a few others. "Get off me!"

"It's me." Spike released her. "Look, you double back and get in the car." He thrust the keys into her hand.

"I don't think a Buick, even though it's a solid car, is going to be a match for those guys. A stake snapped right off in one of them. Their skin is all rocky and gross."

"No, you take the car, and you get down to the ranger's station, and you wait there for me."

"What? I can't-"

"Do it."

"No!"

"They don't want me, they want you, but I'm betting they're smart enough not to kill you in broad daylight in front of witnesses. Travers wouldn't want that getting around."

"You can't do four against- or five, because that one I staked will probably get up soon- to one!"

"Done it all the time." _With humans though, an' they die so easily..._"We don't have time to argue, go!" Spike shoved her up and out. "Use knives and go for the eyes. Most creatures have vulnerable eyes."

Buffy grunted as she hauled herself up and took off, heart screaming she needed to go back. She nearly always listened to her heart.

* * *

The Chieftain was more than a little annoyed when he suddenly seemed to lose the scent trail of the being he was pursuing. Oh, she was still there, but not on the same path. Instead- "Vampire."

"An' what are you, Handsome? You know, on this planet they have little jars of moisturizer that'd clear that charcoal briquette look you've got right up."

"Snake-tongued one." He spat and clicked his nails together, fingertips igniting. "I have no time for your talk."

Spike dodged, but the iron fist still grazed the back of his neck, the blue flames still got him, searing a ring around his throat. The Chieftain departed without a backwards glance as Spike fell to his knees with strangled roar of pain.

* * *

Buffy turned, wild eyed. "Spike! Spike?"

"Giving away your position with your cries and crashing about. Foolish human."

"Get out of my way." Buffy was confronted by a wall of three of her hunters. "_Now_!"

"No, we do not fear you. You cannot kill us with your weak human weapons, you can only-"

"I hate doing this. I warned you. I asked you nicely. Nicely-ish." Buffy winced and lunged forward, the thick bladed dagger she'd taken from Faith in her hand. "I like vampires because they dust, no muss, no fuss-" she plunged with a wince, orange goop spraying on her, making her skin burn on contact, "no exploding eyeballs..."

The knife must have gone through to the brain, that was all Buffy could figure, as the form convulsed, and she ran, trying not to vomit. One was after her, and one stayed by the side of its dying comrade, wailing something in a guttural language she couldn't understand.

"Spike!" Buffy's own cry rang in the air.

* * *

It was a comforting sound. As well as bloody annoying one. _I told her to run..._ Spike rolled over. This was one of the times he'd thought his number was up. Fire on the neck gave you a two for one shot at a second death, by decapitation or consumed by flame, depending on what severed or burnt through first. Fortunately for him, he wrapped himself up in the duster's lapels and then managed to think through the blood red pain and his unlife flashing before his eyes, and scoop of handfuls of damp dirt to smother the flames. Now he lay, collecting his strength and wondering how bad he was hurt, and heard her screaming for him.

_Wait. Screamin' 'cause she heard_ me _scream when I got lit up? Or screamin' for help? _

_ Pain later. Run now._

* * *

These bastards were fast. Spike tailed one, one tailed Buffy, one he had no bloody idea where it was, and he knew the head honcho was probably coming in from the side. "Slayer!" He tried to call, but it came out a wheeze. _Shit. Vocal cords burned._

"Spike?" Buffy turned, and her face lit up when she saw him running, her attacker now sandwiched between them. "Spike!"

He had to smile, even as wretched as he felt. _Look at her. Smilin' at me even in the midst of all this. Speakin' of which._ "Slayer! Keep goin'!" He gestured frantically and rasped out.

Buffy's smile evaporated. His voice, his body language- something was off. _They hurt him. Bad. And he's still trying to protect me. _

Her heart felt like it turned over. Something restarted. "Hey. Brick face. Come here." Buffy turned and stopped being the prey.

"What the hell is she doing?" Spike hissed.

"Come here. I have orange eye guts on my right sleeve, I need a little on my left."

He could hear it. The double time heartbeat, see the hardening of her face, the narrowing of her eyes. _Slayer's back in town. _

"You got it from both sides now, mate." Spike croaked, closing the distance.

"And so does she." The Chieftain materialized behind her. Right behind her. Fingertips aflame, he wound them around her throat.

_He'll burn her. She's not like me, she's - she's human. She could die so fast and I- _"Buffy! Thirty degrees!" Spike yelled, and something tore in his throat from the effort.

"Knives work!" Buffy yelled at the same time.

As one, Spike grabbed that poofy skull dagger that was his "trophy" from his second battle on Buffy's behalf, and slammed it into the skull of the demon in front of him, as Buffy, still holding Faith's stained knife, jerked her elbow back, thirty degrees, and the blade connected with something unyielding as flames crossed her skin.

A trio of screams echoed in the forest, and birds left the trees, seeking the shelter of cloudy skies instead.

Spike left his dagger plunged into the dense hide of the demon in front of him and walked over top of him, scrambling to Buffy's side as she clutched at the back of her neck. The lead demon tossed her blade to the ground, still standing though his side was weeping virulent, oily blood.

"Down." Spike's voice didn't seem to function anymore, but he shoved the girl to the earth, putting out her hair, smothering it with the grass and her own body.

Buffy yelped, but let him tackle her. It was then, when he was over top of her, that she could see the thick cords of welted, burnt flesh in his neck. See through it in some places. Her stomach revolted, and so did her heart.

_No one hurts him while he's protecting me. He's a fighter. He never stops. Neither do I._ Satisfied she was done burning, and ignoring the pain, she shoved him off and swung both her legs in a hard arc, taking the remaining demon in the clearing down, if only for a second, so they could run.

* * *

She hauled him, and he pushed her, traveling fast, one eye on the sky as the clouds seemed to thin. "You'll be okay, right? You got burned but you got burned before, I mean,_ I_ kind of burned you in that church fire, which you_ so_ deserved, but you survived that, so you'll-"

"Shh." He shook her elbow to make the rambling cease. "Okay." He hissed.

"What do we do? These guys are creepy sneaky fast, and he has my knife."

"Mine too." Spike realized, patting his pockets.

"You can't go against them again, vampire- fire."

"Human- fire." He glared and lightly tugged her hair- which had a large portion singed. It came away in his hand and he held it out to her.

"They screwed up my hair?!" Buffy shrieked indignantly. "I'm totally going to kill them now." Spike gave her a long suffering look and put his fingers to his lips again. "Right, life or death, hair later. What works on these guys? What _are _these guys?"

"Think they're the pure form of my demon, something like mine anyway. Blood drinkers. Hunt by scent, must do. Bloodhounds who like demons, not humans." Spike wheezed.

"Don't talk." Buffy watched him struggle to speak and even as they ran she wanted to stop and fix his neck somehow, soothe it in some way.

"Have to. Wood's no good, steel works in some way but we don't have a chance to restock."

"Daylight might-"

"They _like_ fire. They're _part_ fire, can snap it out of their big ugly mitts, smell of brimstone. Live in fire."

"We could roll them in dirt?"

"Hurts to talk, so don't make me waste time insultin' you." He paused against a tree for a second. "Water. We could get 'em back down to the lake."

"That's miles back the other way."

"We run fast."

"You don't." Buffy paused with him.

"I told you, they don't-"

"Bullshit." Buffy yanked him away from the tree. "You have my back, and if you aren't there, this back is not had, got it?"

"Well, well, well." Spike smirked. "Looks like someone-"

"If it hurts to talk, don't finish the gloating." Buffy groaned and dragged him onward. "You're coming with me, and we're getting back to the lake."

* * *

They didn't get very far before a flaw in that plan occurred. A channel of blue fire stretched across their path. "Holy crap- they're gonna burn down the wood! Spike, they're going to start a forest fire, oh my God, we need to get to a phone, we need to-"

"Magic fire. It's stayin' in place." Spike simply turned and rerouted her. "But they're pennin' us in. We gotta go the other way."

"And what if they've got their flame wall thingies up over there?" Buffy asked.

"Why we'd better run fast. Get up the mountain and down the other side, ring around the bloody rosy." Spike whispered out of necessity.

"Whoa, whoa, we can't do that! There's a family down there, with three kids!" Buffy yanked on his sleeve.

"Casualties."

"I'm the Slayer! Innocents before my life, it's in the rules, it's why I do what I do."

"But it has nothin' to do with why I do what I do, so move your ass or I'll knock you out and drag you." Spike tried to shift her but she planted her heels.

"It'd be far easier if you let her stay there. We haven't fed on this plane as yet, and she is annoyingly swift."

_See? If she'd just listen to me..._ Spike gave a despairing look heavenwards as they lost their chance to outdistance their pursuer.

"Sorry to tire you out." Buffy called, and ran, expecting to feel Spike close on her heels. Instead she looked back to see him going the other way. Divide and conquer- only they were only coming after her. _So what's his plan?_

* * *

His plan was for them to think he wasn't going to be there for her. _Ha. Not bloody likely. _He was the cut off man, like he'd been in each scenario. She could handle herself, but he was the second set of eyes- and in this case the second body. He'd get between them, circle around on the opposite side, and hold them off while she got down and around the peak, made her way down to the lake.

That was the _plan_. He hadn't counted on their fiery barriers being so easily shot to life. As he was about to overtake them, get between Buffy and the two chasing her, the head demon turned and snapped a sizzling barricade across his path.

* * *

Buffy froze, skidding at the top of the rocky ledge. Arcs of still fire were trapping her, cutting her off, as the two approached her. A snap and a zing to the left and there went her way down. A pop and flare behind them and Spike was cut off, looking desperately at her as he tried to gauge how far he'd have to jump to clear it or if he'd make it through without dusting.

"You held your own far longer than most humans. You should be proud of yourself, girl."

"Yeah, kinda am sometimes." Buffy looked over her shoulders. Rocks, grass. A long way down to that lake. And way too much land between it and her. She'd never clear it. _Well- hand to hand when all else fails. Spike always said I was resourceful... _"What's with the past tense? I'm _still_ holding my own. If you wanted to be nice about this, we could go one on one, and take turns. Does that work for everyone?"

The Chieftain and his second exchanged glances. "What are you talking about? You cannot fight us."

"She can, y'know." Spike called. His voice didn't so much carry as it grated painfully, but Buffy was comforted hearing him at all. "She's the ticket, boys. Real Slayer." He walked right to the wall and looked through it, sapphire blue eyes through electric blue flames. "She doesn't hold back... Slayer. All the way. Does things-" he paused, looking purposefully past her, "you'd never think she could do."

Buffy looked over her shoulder, following his gaze. _The water? Get them in the water, I know, but how? I'd need major mojo potholders to even touch them._

"Burn him." The Chieftain waved a dismissive hand at Spike and his follower turned, walking through the wall.

"No!" Buffy reacted. She felt the staccato beat of her heart kicking into a higher speed than she'd ever felt, and felt the familiar fear. The fear that she was about to be taken over, become something less than human, become a freak- and stay that way, no off switch, no normal.

_ Well, too bad, because I'm out of options. I am the Slayer and I am Buffy and there is no "we", there is just me- and Spike. _"Lay one hand on him and I'll break your stony, ugly face!" She leapt on the back of the demon calling the shots, jerking his head backward over her tight arm and pointing a stake under his jaw.

"Ha- wooden." He clicked his fingertips together and the stake was nothing more than ash in a severely burnt palm.

"Get him in the water!" Spike swooped himself into a black leather ball and bounded through the flames the same way his assailant had just come, praying a little demony prayer that this fire couldn't trap him inside, since it already seemed to break other laws of nature by staying in place.

"I can't get down there -" Buffy lost her grip momentarily, then forced her fingers to ignore the pain and close around the thorny shoulder.

"YOU _CAN_!" Spike bellowed as he fell to the ground, the other demon setting upon him as his beloved coat smoked and seared.

_Don't back down, don't back down.._. Buffy dropped from his back and sidestepped him, circling.

"Slayer and a vampire. This is an odd combination, indeed. Perhaps your leader was right to order your termination." With glowing palms and fire bright eyes, he stepped closer to her.

Buffy didn't comment. There was no room for comments in her head, not over the blood rush. The blood thirst. _They hurt us. Die now. _

Spike sat up enough to see her run, flat out, even though it was a short distance. Head down, shoulders forward, legs leaving the ground- "Not like that!" He forgot to grapple, just head butted the bastard attacking him long enough to stare open mouthed in horror as Buffy took her opponent out in the chest- and over the cliff, going with him.

"Slayer! Buffy!" He shouted and coughed, hand to torn throat.

* * *

The world was a jumble of black pain, gray sky, brown and green earth, yet her eyes were fixed firmly on the water. It was hard to focus as her head bounced off of two or three outcrops on the way down before she caught her toes on a ledge and shoved off again. Her legs went like coiled springs, jettisoning her, and the beast she still had locked in front of her- into the chilly waters of the lake.

* * *

"Chieftain! Clan Father!"

"Slayer!"

"What has she done?" The demon cried.

"What the fuck did she do!?" Spike gasped. "SLAYER! _BUFFY_!" No good, his voice wasn't getting the distance it should, given the horrible- _Hey_. Spike put his hand to his throat. "She took him out. She took him _out_!" Spike looked around. The walls of fire were gone. His wound was healing. Sometimes the death of the demon undid the damage- especially if they didn't belong in this world in the first place. "If she can do it- I can do it..." Spike shoved the demon out hard, flung him into the air, as he stood in mournful shock. He toppled and clawed at the air with frantic cries. Spike, on the other hand, closed his eyes, hoped for a minimum of broken bones- and a live girl at the end of the ride- ran back, charged forward, and threw himself over the edge.

* * *

Buffy came up with a gasp, and hands full of black, gritty mud- that wasn't really mud. She didn't feel any revulsion, only triumph, pure exultation. And like she was having an asthma attack, coughing up water.

"You did it! You did it! Holy shit, you scared me, you crazy bitch!" Spike was breaching the water behind her, face streaked black and he too was shaking the demonic remains off his hand.

"I did! I - I jumped, and I just- I felt the rocks hitting me and I just kept going... I was- stronger." Buffy shook her hair out of her face and bobbed over to him, letting him pull her into a water logged embrace.

"I thought you'd throw him over, not go with him!"

"No, we didn't know for sure it would work, I couldn't leave any question, I had to make sure they were definitely-" Buffy stopped speaking and looked up at the hills overshadowing the lake. A small black figure, with telltale jack-o-lantern eyes, was watching them. "The one I hit in the woods." She murmured.

"We took out his chief and all the rest, we can take him out too." Spike paddled forward towards the shore.

"Wait." Buffy pushed herself forward a few strokes until her feet touched the lake floor. "You! Rock Head! Listen up!" Buffy's shouts rang in the still dawn, but she didn't care. Spike watched her, a smile flirting with a gobsmacked expression on his face. _I knew she could do it. I knew she was the one._

"I'm letting you live, this time! You get a message to your boss- or the guy that hired you, whatever you call him!" The figure stood still. She took a deep breath and continued. "That power he wants to control? He'll never take it from me now! They tried to steal it with drugs and tame it with rules! They tried to kill me, they tried to sacrifice me, they tried to copy me! It DOESN'T WORK!" Blood soared through her, and strength, adrenaline, a pure, unadulterated rush of ownership."No way! You tell him he can get his own power! _This_ is _mine_!"

He watched her find her feet and rise out of the lake, hanging back, watching the show unfold, watching the creature turn and flee. Watching the smile on her face as the superpowers and the uncertain girl- suddenly all became one perfect, blissfully lethal blend.

"It's _mine_!"

His heart gave a ghost flutter and he felt like he was drowning, not just in the water. He whispered to himself, unaware he was speaking, "She is. Mine."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	18. Chapter 18

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Smut warning! Skim if you gotta._

_Author's Second Note: Holy. Cow. All the reviews for this story and it's only been up for a month! I am overcome with gratitude, and I hope you'll forgive the choppiness of this chapter- it's supposed to feel a little anti-climactic. Don't worry. I have a plan :)_

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Alexiarrose,Sirius120, micmoc, Alottalove, Embers and Flames, Haleycc Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, Touch the Dark, ValidescopeWest, Rachel, Cavementftw, ammuna, Cantanatova, marty powell, Sanity Fair, Hbmckidd, DragonMouse,Seapea, Blade Redwind, Clara Johnson, Maire Ailbhe, Illusera, kasumi. EFP, Illusera, NausicA, Avarand, Kerry220, ry123red, mike13z50, and PeaceHeather._

_I. Love. You. Guys._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XVIII**

The glorious high of victory faded somewhat when Buffy realized the clouds had given away completely, and a blaze of sunlight was skimming across the water. She looked around frantically. Glory means nothing if you realize the one person you were fighting for, outside of yourself, is still in danger.

"We gotta go!" Spike shouted, moment broken as he felt his skin starting to prickle.

"You can talk!" Buffy realized belatedly, wading with him as Spike slipped the dripping duster up over his head. "Like normal."

"You took out the front man, and he's the one who tore me up." Spike peeped out at her. "Your hair's still wonky at the back." He fought down the urge to touch it. He blinked hard, spat water he somehow managed to still have tucked in his chest. That dream moment was gone. But not forgotten.

"Crud." Buffy groaned. She looked at him, lifting the flap of his coat, making him wince and growl as the light touched him. His throat was still - ugh. "Not _all_ the way better..."

"What? Oh." He pulled his second skin tighter around himself. "It's just surface, Pet. Doesn't go very deep." It soddin' _had._ Most of the damage was gone, from that strangely still magic fire. The rest of the burns, just from the bruiser's creosote-like skin and the rest of his brimstone nastiness left enough ugliness to contend with, even with the repaired vocal cords and the worst of his wounds healed. "A few good feedings and it'll be fine."

Buffy swallowed, golden rushing feeling settling, dimmed.

"You sure you're okay?" Spike pressed.

"We did it." She answered in an awed voice, not really replying to his question, just uttering a realization.

Spike shook his head once. "_You_ did it. I just watched." _Where the hell did that come from? I did plenty! I love to brag, an' that was pretty damn big an' worth braggin' about!_

_ But if she's mine, all she does is somethin' that's part of me an'- No. I mean that fight I saw in her today, _that's _what's mine. That's all. 'Cause I taught her to take it to the next level._

Buffy rushed over his musings, shaking her head in turn. "No way! I couldn't have done it without you."

"We're a pretty slick team, huh?"

"Looks like."

Spike reached the shore and water sloshed from his clothes and boots. "We're gonna have to do laundry." He realized belatedly, with a groan.

"We took out some unkillable demon-eating demons- we can handle laundry!"

"You can't slay washers, though."

"Oh. Yeah. Kinda tried that already."

"Don't fancy doin' it again."

They hurried once they were on land, the sun beginning to brighten and burn into a blazing blue sky. For several minutes, neither said anything. So much of a high- and then- nothing but coming down to earth with a thud.

At least until they got inside the house. Spike tried to shut the door, and stopped, stymied.

Buffy looked back at him, pushing against the doorway, and they both stopped and stared.

The edge was splintered. It wouldn't close, it wouldn't hold, even if forced, it merely rested shattered frame to gouged doorjamb.

Doors and locks meant nothing, there was no safety here, even in evidence of the intrusion and attack was all over their temporary home.

_ They found us. They were here._ The foul smell of them lingered in the room, their thick feet left scuffs on the wooden floor.

_They'd barged in. I was starting to think I was safe. As long as he was with me. _A breeze from down the hall bore reminder of a hasty escape out a window, a window left open as the safe house, then unsafe, had been abandoned.

_We were gonna make it all soft. Soft an' together. Then they tore in here... _Spike stared at the gouges in the door. _They could've taken her away. _He didn't dare add "from me" , even in his own head.

_They almost got her._

_ He nearly died. _

"You okay?" Spike repeated yet again, his voice raspy, but not from injury this time.

"Of course!" Buffy turned to him suddenly. "You had my back." She beamed, eyes glistening all at once.

_Almost lost._

_ Loss prevented._

_ Found._

* * *

He swooped her up and she didn't even care about the scars and the ugly skin she could feel pressing against hers. She realized her arms were blistered as well, wherever their blood had touched her. _We're so messed up. But we're so incredible. _

She didn't even realize it was the first time she'd ever truly thought of her ability as something purely good, even great.

"You burnt?" He could feel the weals on her skin.

"Not as bad as you." She was surprised when her fingers rested on his soaked shoulders with complete gentleness, near enough to his wounds to comfort him but not enough to pain him.

"Had worse- from you." He joked.

"Had worse- from you." She breathed and found them pulling and tearing- yes tearing- clothes off, too soaked and too sore and too high on unspoken realizations to preserve all the niceties of foreplay and disrobing.

Save one. "The door-"

"Barricades'll work for now." Spike, half dressed and half unzipped, heaved the couch in front of it and Buffy tossed the coffee table on top for insurance. "Safe. For an hour or two."

Liars. Liars with honest eyes, now two sets, which locked and formed a bridge from one mind to the other.

_There is no safe. Anywhere. There's only being able to defend yourself from dangers. That- and having each other._

"Sounds good. Hour or two." Spike murmured.

"Can we go a whole hour or two? I mean-" Buffy blushed, not shyly, but because blood simply was flooding into every pore, arousal and post-confrontation hormones weighing in.

"I know what you mean. We'll give it a bloody good try." Smashed back into her, buttons popped open, or in her case, button popped off, bra hooks scattered and his faithful black attire left in half rags as they pawed and pushed back into the bedroom. Then turned, back into the bathroom.

"Demon guts. In my hair. Need shampoo." He rolled his eyes and stopped kissing her hungrily. "I known you think that's the uptight teenager side of me, but it's how I am. Deal with it." She pushed his shoulders firmly, making him move with her across the hall._ I'm not backing off the Slayer side- I can't do that anymore. I don't- I don't think I'll ever be able to do it again. But I'm still _me. _And I don't want gunk on the sheets._

"For God's sake..." Doin' it in the spoils of war was one of his favorite parts. Of course- _she_ was his spoils, at least for today. At least in his mind.

"Come with me, come on." She urged him and he finally stopped resisting. "That- looks...bad." Buffy tried to actively avoid looking at the flayed neck. It was better than it had been, worse than anyone should ever see, but she couldn't tear her eyes away now, not when nakedness and filtered daylight laid him bare. Laid them both bare, them and all their flaws and wants and needs- and victories and beauties. "You should get it cleaned up and we'll put aloe and stuff on it." She suggested softly. It was gentleness, but still raw and primal, something she hadn't felt often before. The desire to heal your partner, your mate.

"Only time an' blood heal this lot." Spike chuckled darkly. He pushed against her, ragged voiced and ragged skin, and not really able to stop himself, even though touching his raw skin to hers hurt him "Close your eyes if you don't want to see, Beautiful, you'll still feel the good parts."

She did close her eyes, but not to avoid him, but because of him, because of the overwhelming amount of him, all over her- and she was more herself than ever. Bigger, braver, stronger- and yeah, the normal girl who'd only had sex three times total (twice if you counted last night as only one long session) was there, apprehensive and eager. This was new. This was different.

And still comfortingly the same.

"I want to feel you. And see you." Buffy admitted.

"Mmm, you will, Precious, you will. Many, many times." The chuckle left his voice, dark syrupy residue in its wake as his cock thrust against her, instantly hard and throbbing in post-fight lust.

Lust and more. _Appreciation, gratitude. Care. _He hated labels, but he still tried to find one for this want and need. _We'll call it victory sex._ He knew that was only part of it.

She reached back, clumsily slapping through the shower curtain, hitting the wall as their tongues tangoed and fronts slid together. Her hand found the knob, and rust brown water shot across her arm, making her cry out in dismay.

"So much for the big tough Slayer."

"I'm a big tough Slayer who likes to shop and get my nails done. Plumbing and woodsy fun are so not me." She laughed easily at herself- another new (and possibly fleeting) thing.

"You feel so good, Baby." Spike hugged her buttery skin, still speckled with grime and burns in places, but overall a treat for his flesh, close to him and reveled.

"I do." Buffy realized. She knew part of that was because of him. _What's a victory if no one was there to kick your ass to make it happen and unreservedly cheer their guts out for you when you won? _She had a pang of friend-missage that was swallowed up by taking comfort in his arms.

He felt her pulse drop a little, just a little, as she held him back tightly. Not running her hands over him like she had been, instead still for a minute. He got it. "Strong types can still like a bit of the soft." He touched her breast with gentle, wondering fingertips. So perfect, but so completely unique. "Know_ I_ do."

Buffy shivered as he palpated her firm, aching bust._ Must've gotten beaten up a little extra. Rock monster elbows to the chest, I guess. _"Yeah. Me too." _Strong types like softness. Doesn't mean we're less strong, or less human. Oh God. Spike's part human, isn't he? _

Funny what clicks in your head when your eyes suddenly open.

"I'm soft. Very soft." She licked his earlobe- one soft part of him she could find in a mass of muscles and sinews.

"Ohhh, God, Luv, yes you are." They stepped into tepid water now running clear. He increased the temperature a bit, and tried to lift her up, impale that softness on his hardness.

No dice. She moved away from his arms and under the full blast of the shower. But still well worth it. Spike eyed her appreciatively.

Buffy stood under the stream, luxuriating in feeling the grit and ooze washed off, and singed hairs, black and crisp, falling away. Her hands rinsed off the rest, before she pulled him under with her. "How'd you get so messy?" She wrinkled her nose playfully, and looked at the bruises and burns on him. "I _totally_ did most of the work."

He laughed a little at her, finding the nose wrinkle cute- for once. "Yeah, well...I took some of your blows for you. Bodyguard, remember?" He winked.

He'd meant it flippantly, caustically comical, that was him. But all of the sudden, she couldn't let it stay that way in her mind.

_He almost died. Again. For me. So many times for me- his enemy. His partner in an uneasy truce? His _friend_? We never give each other anything but headaches and the urge to murder each other, and now we- we're something else. We give more, to comfort..._ Buffy took a deep breath and tried not to shake as she closed the scant distance between them. _To give good feelings... To protect..._ She closed her eyes, and slid her hands into his soft hair, so soft when all the gel was out of it and it was simply wet._ To help... _She tilted her chin to the side as she pulled his head down._ To heal_

He didn't move at all, not on his own. Let her guide, and he simply concentrated on not being the first vampire in history to die of shock. She brought his mouth to her neck. He kissed it after a few seconds, uncertainly. She pressed harder. He licked. She made a frantic whimpering sound, and touched his throat, which made him wince. She winced in perfect mirroring.

Maybe it was her spasm of pain on his behalf that made him launch a different type of attack.

Buffy gasped. Fingers under her thigh, then between, up and in, slightly abrasive and seeking until they connected. "No... Not about-"

"All about you." He harshly silenced her, working his hand against her until he felt her grind back against his palm. Her hand twisted insistently in his hair and she buffeted his mouth with the space where neck met shoulder. "Hurts you." He protested in the same harsh voice. Should have tipped him off. He'd never cared if it hurt before.

"Not as much as you hurting for me does." She said simply in a tiny, but resolute voice.

_Just like her. Small but mighty. The real Slayer. no wonder they want her under their control. No one ever owned such power._

_ She shares it with me. _

He said "Thank you" as she added, "Please?"

Simple, formal words in something so dangerous and so intimate.

He didn't tell her he'd stop after a few sips._ You don't tell her that, because this one won't let you have more than she wants you to have._

She didn't warn him or threaten him. He'd just proved her life meant more than his own. _He wouldn't rob me of life now._

_Maybe we're just going to share it together for a little while._

A huge thought that ended with a small, sharp prick, and a single salt drop lost under the shower's stream.

Head rush. Aphrodisiac and pain killer all at once, the perfect, addictive drug. "Ohhh. Ohhhh. You taste like what you are, Luv, sweet an' with a kick that'll take a man to his knees."

"Oh? Ohh. Uh- mmmmm." She was fairly sure bites were supposed to hurt way more than this. This had been like the sharp sensation of getting your ear pierced- sudden and hard, and then over- only the combination of his mouth and his tongue stroking slowly and greedily against her pulse was like getting an x-rated hicky massage. Toss in the fact that his fingers were also still massaging...

Buffy's knees buckled and Spike caught her, lifting his head up with a gasp. "Not more'n a drop, Luv, you shouldn't be so weak. Fuck, what'd I do?" He surveyed her anxiously as she crashed back.

"Making me cum." Buffy whispered with a giggle and a dreamy half-smile that surprised them both. "I feel okay... Do _you_ feel okay?"

He touched his neck, then led her hand to it as well. The skin was smoothing out. "I'll be fine soon. But you-"

"Want you to be fine _now_." She insisted firmly.

"Well, I say that you prolly ought to rest before you-"

"I'm offering you Slayer blood." Her tone lost the muzziness and became glacial. "You really want to throw that chance away?"

"Not really." He licked her neck, and tugged her up to a sitting position, then scooped her up in his arms. "I'm offerin' you soft. An' hard. You gonna argue with me about how we do this?"

"Not really."

He had her out of the tub, a towel jerked across her torso, and out of the bathroom before she could blink.

Softness of the bed under her hips, hardness of him sliding against her inner thighs as he fell unevenly with her. He kissed her, a faintly coppery kiss that took her breath away, and she held him close. "Arguing doesn't really work with us."

He laid his head wearily to her throat, ridges forming as they both closed their eyes and held on. "No, we do better with a truce. One united front."

His cock split her open and his fangs pierced her already closing wound open again. She bucked under him, hands to his head, gasping, muscles contracting hard.

She knew he was in her, a fang opening one small red tunnel while lower down a thick white rod plowed into her and kept her open there too. She should feel violated, torn, and bitten.

She'd never felt so at one with anyone, ever. _Probably because I've never been all zen with myself either,_ she considered."More." She was strong. She knew that, and knew he wouldn't take much.

He tilted her head, making her eyes open and stare into his dark gold ones. "More?" The demon asked his slayer.

"I trust you." The prey told her hunter.

He loved her, for a second. For another second, so many stolen seconds in close succession these days. But only for this minute when hunter and hunted were simply two beings making love and healing each other in any way they could. Only for right then.

At least that's what he told himself.

* * *

The first time was over in a few blindingly hard thrusts and cries.

Buffy stared up at him in awe. Equal parts "shy teen watching hardcore action" mixed with "all-powerful superhero watching her equal perform feats of strength" kinds of awe. He had her knees locked under his arms as he pumped away between her thighs, sitting up, alabaster muscles with healing scarlet scars gleaming in the blue washed light coming in through the curtains.

He looked down at her with human softness and demon lust. She was beautiful, a hot, ripe peach, all scents, and heat, and warmth. His demon longed to erupt and fill that torrid palace with his cold spendings, make lightening crash inside her- like she made it thunder inside his normally silent chest.

The poet saw she trembled like an aspen leaf when her pleasurable peak began, and then slammed her iron fingers in their velvet skin against his forearms as she came. _Inside she feels so breakable, and outside- she's indestructible. _

_You always had a thing for that, didn't you?_ He reminded himself bitterly.

"I need you. I need you to hurry up and I'm- oh God, now, now, _now, _with me!" Buffy demanded helplessly, tired of cumming in these fast, unfinished spurts by herself, wanting some sense of completion.

"Bossy." He gasped out, giving no signs of slowing.

"I just want you, is that so bad?" She whined.

_Yes. Yes it is._

_ Oh hell, I wanna be bad._

"Make me." He grinned cockily.

"I'm trying!" Buffy got a hurt look on her face, and worked her muscles around him. He made an inarticulate cry accompanied with a spasm. "See?" She pointed accusingly.

"No, no, no. _Make me._" He collapsed back from her, but drew her with him, reversing positions.

"What? I don't- what?" Buffy swatted at his hands as they pulled at her.

"Let's do a little give and take, Luv."

"I am!" Buffy tapped her neck.

He paused mid-wrestle, looking up at her protesting eyes. "Why?"

"Because. I- you can't hunt and there's not a a butcher we can get to and your neck looked gross." Buffy's eyes closed over.

"Ah. That's you. Merciful to the weak." He let go of her shoulders.

"You're not weak."

"Sure I am." He touched her cheek lightly. "Very weak." He recalled his lost resolve and their changing relationship.

Buffy swallowed. "You can still be strong and have weaknesses." She let her hand hesitate above his cheek as well, before it finally landed, the tiniest hint of shaking in her fingers. "I know_ I _am." She paraphrased his words from earlier.

Strong. Weak. Hard. Soft. Good. Evil. All kinds of opposites and both just the same. World flipped around and over.

_Like us._ She slid easily on top of him, looking down into blue eyes alight with anticipation and want._ Like mine. I'm his reflection. Maybe in a funhouse mirror kind of way, but..._

He took her hips, and she took him in, wincing a little at the new angle, which gave away to a sharp, deep pleasure. "Wow."

"Now you can feel what I feel." He whispered, before her mouth fell on top of his, "When I look down and see..."

"Me looking up at you..."

_So we were wrong. There_ is _somewhere safe._

She was soon riding him hard and the sex was different than ever before, more confident, more desperate, more explorative.

It was more real.

It was more like making love.

_No, not making love. Can't be._ Buffy let herself go, wracked on him, and clumsily climbing him to new heights, unable to remember what she should do or shouldn't do as she searched for this unknown pleasure. _Can't be making love because we're not in love._

"Keep goin'." Spike urged when she stopped.

"I- I can't." Buffy blinked, hips slowing.

"I got you. Can't stop halfway there, Pet. Trust me. Makes for a very irritable disposition." He hugged her tightly and flipped her onto her back, taking the helm with a smile.

"Thanks." Buffy murmured in a confused voice, inwardly replaying a conversation that was distracting her. _What is love? What is this that we're making, because it's nothing like what Angel and I had, and it's nothing like I thought it was like._

"Baby?" Spike's voice tried to reach inside her, but she just stared at him, listening to something whispering in her mind.

_It's not just my opinion, Slayer, it's how it_ is._ You just never want anyone else, and you never give up. No matter how odd it seems, how bad it hurts... love doesn't quit._

_ No one makes it leave... No one cares if it's a good idea..._

_ Yeah, Slayer. Like that._

She blinked and kissed him. _He didn't quit. He didn't leave. This is strange, like us. No one cares if it's a good idea- and I don't really care because there's no one else _but _us. _

"You look funny." He peered into her eyes, wondering if her pupils would give some indication of head injury.

"You should talk." She smiled a half-dizzy grin. "All that bleach. Which is totally wearing off now." Her fingers fluffed a wet curl drying slowly.

"It'll grow on you." He winked.

"I know. That's what scares me." She whispered.

His turn to have a suddenly unfocused look spreading over her taut features. "Scares me, too." He confessed.

"But you don't run when you're scared." Buffy loved that. All at once, completely, totally loved it. "Or when it's wrong."

He shrugged, and let his powerful shoulders rest on hers, so much smaller yet just as able. "I like a bit of wrong." He whispered, hands sliding down her waist, to bring her to him more deeply, more and more deeply. She let out a little cry and held him tight, their eyes simultaneously closing.

Her hands imbedded in his back as he embedded in her.

"And?" Buffy prompted with one of her final coherent thoughts.

"Not scared of _you_."

"I'm not either. Of you."_ Never was scared of him when he was bad. Kind of freaks me out when he's good. _

"Nothin' to be afraid of."

"Then don't stop. Don't stop."

"I won't."

_ Probably can't._

* * *

They wore each other out finally, and curled in a defensive ball, him around her, though they knew it could have offered just as much protection with her as the shield. That's what respect and equality means when you're both fighters.

"We have to do something about the door..." Buffy murmured as she fell into the haziness of slumber.

"This is timber country and the middle of nowhere. Someone'll know how to fix it and have the wood for it."

"But we can't tell them how-"

"Buy a new door then. Got money." He stroked her hair and pulled the sheet over them both. Completely unsafe. Someone could walk in on them at any moment.

_I'll just kill 'em. Too sunny to drive to the store anyway, and too sunny to patrol the perimeter._ "You're gonna be okay. I'll look after you."

"Okay..." She looked back at him with sleepy eyes, showing the weariness of a woman used to doing herculean efforts on a few hours of sleep and a lot of gut wrenching worry. "Look after you, too." She smiled a puzzled little half-grin. "Because."

"Will do."

"You'll wake me if-"

"You'll know. Ears like ours? We'll hear footsteps from a mile off."

* * *

"Uh. Hrm. Hr-hrm. HRMMM!"

Spike sat up with a wild snarl, "I'll get him, I'll rip his sorry -" and Buffy screeched.

"Hang on, now folks, hang on!" A man in an olive uniform with an outstretched badge quickly looked anywhere but at the disheveled bed and its occupants.

"Spike!" Buffy hissed and yanked the covers back over them, blushing and all her former confidence totally gone in the face of mortification. _Only with Spike. Honestly, that has to be it. Only with him could I worry about getting murdered, use a cell phone magicked up to look like a wallet, have strangers think I'm pregnant and married, drive a stolen Buick, raid a Seattle library, go cliff diving- and now wake up naked after naughty vampy zen sex with Ranger Joe standing over us. _

_ I'm going to survive this thing just so I can go back later and die of embarrassment. _

"What the hell are you doin' bargin' in on a couple in the middle of the-" Spike looked out the window. The light was strong and bright, even through the curtain. "Middle of the afternoon?"

"We got reports from some campers down the other side of the peak about seeing fires in the woods early this morning and possibly a few bears running wild and acting strangely."

"We-we would never set forest fires." Buffy stammered, wide eyed, looking for her clothes. Which were all out of her reach, of course. "I mean- he smokes-"

"No crime in that." Spike interjected, looking between his bedmate and the ranger.

"-but he always puts them out! Believe me, we_ hate_ fire, there is no one more fire safety conscious than us, we-"

"Been in a fire once." Spike said musingly. "Nope, can't say I enjoyed it. Not your firebugs, mate."

The ranger scratched his head under his hat, then took the hat off. "There don't seem to be any signs of fire at all."

_Right. Magic fire. Nothing left._ Buffy and Spike shot each other a "We just made ourselves sound very stupid and suspicious" look.

Spike relied on bluster- and his own shock tactics. He got out of bed and marched over to the ranger- who hastily backed up as Buffy gasped. "So why did you burst into our little hideaway and interrupt my- lady- and I, as we were sleepin'?" He demanded.

The ranger's chin pointed unmovingly at the ceiling. "I'm really sorry, Sir, we came up to warn campers of the bear sightings and I saw your door was damaged. I knocked a few times and when you didn't answer I decided to come in. I'm gonna give you a moment to get dressed." The ranger turned and fairly ran from the room.

"Spike!" Buffy chided once they were alone. "You are gonna get us arrested for- for assaulting a ranger."

"I didn't touch him!" He gave her a suddenly evil smirk. "But nothin' makes you move faster than some angry, naked stranger in your face."

"A tactic I _won'_t be using."

"Wouldn't work with you, you're too pretty, even pissed off." Spike found a pair of discarded jeans. "This is my last pair. We _do_ need to do the wash."

Buffy scrambled into sweats and a tee shirt, nothing underneath, and tugged her tangled hair into something resembling order. "We can worry about laundry after we worry about getting arrested. What if they take us in for criminal door abuse or something? Vandalism. This isn't our house."

"Let me talk, you stand there and nod."

"Never gonna happen." Buffy mumbled and followed him out.

The ranger looked much relieved- and back in authority as well, now that he was confronting two fully clothed people, one sheepish looking girl and one aggressive looking man. "We take our duties to protect campers and the summer renters very seriously. This is an isolated area, and this mountain can be dangerous."

Buffy blinked hard, and bit her tongue harder. A teeny, suppressed laugh still broke out. _You have _no_ idea about the dangers on this mountain._

He glared, and Spike joined him. "We usually drive up and check on the rental properties unless we see you down at the station for your supplies. But this talk of bears coming right out in the open, raging around-"

"Came right to the door." Spike cut in. "Smashed into it. Ruddy big thing, black. Knocked clean through it."

The ranger paused in his lecture. "Bear? In the cabin?"

"Well, look around you." Spike said with an expansive wave. "Big gouges all along the door. Must be claw marks. An' it's pushed right in, splintered, init?"

"I never heard of a bear-"

"It was scary! Really scary!" Buffy chimed in. "All the sudden- we were- um- it was early and then there was this crash of wood, 'cause we had the door locked and then '_rawwwwwr_!'." Spike looked at her pityingly, and the ranger scratched his head again. "Bear." She concluded lamely.

"I don't think your rental agreement covers bear attacks on the house. That's pretty rare." The ranger finally said, deciding maybe this was an 'odd' couple they should all ignore until the summer season was over. "If you go down to the town and take the left fork back to the highway, there's a lumber store-" He paused as the man reached out and gave the woman an emphatic push on the shoulder, "you can get a door. The frame and these gouges..."

"I guess they'll have to take care of it after we leave. We don't want to be disturbed. This is our vacation."

"I see." The man got a knowing little smirk. "Second honeymoon?"

"First." Spike and Buffy replied in identical, half-sarcastic tones.

"I'm sorry to disturb you folks. You uh- you just go back to doin' what you were doin'. And tell you what- next grocery order you place- I'm gonna have it delivered, right to your door. Less time trekking down to the outpost." He winked, and walked to the door, with its disturbed barricade.

"How'd _you_ get in?" Buffy asked, looking at the door that was only open about a foot and a half.

"Worked the door open a couple inches, used my flashlight to hit one of the legs of the coffee table, tip it over, and then worked my way in. Must've taken thirty minutes and I was shouting the whole time." He smiled a suddenly irrepressible smile. "You two must've really tired each other out." With that, the ranger squeezed out the way he'd entered.

Once safely alone, Buffy collapsed on the couch. "Wow. I never, _ever _slept through stuff like that. I mean, _Slayer_. Super hearing and stuff."

"Vampire. Same." Spike sank next to her. His hand fell by her wrist. Her fingers twitched. His twitched back, easing closer. "You must take it outta me."

"Double for you." She accused. Fingers met. "But you give it right back."

He slipped his hand under hers. There was so much chaos, and now that the events of the day had been celebrated or ignored or however you classed it, for several hours, it was time to move on.

_Well. 'Nother minute won't hurt._ He closed his eyes and lay back, fingers between hers. He felt a shift, and then a rustle as her head cautiously came to his shoulder. He sighed, deeply and tiredly, even though he was no longer physically tired.

"Happy?" She asked, before she could stop herself, thinking that noise sounded like a sound of contentment. _Oh no. No, no, no, that was so stupid, how could I think that, or ask that, everything is a mess and -_

"Yeah." He answered, before he thought. Gut spoke for him. Gut was usually right.

"Strange." She squeaked.

"No kiddin'." He paused a second before asking nonchalantly, "You?"

_I'm alive. I'm going to win._

_ I'm with someone who won't give up on me, and makes me feel... okay. _Really _okay. _"Yeah." She smiled. "I'm good."

* * *

_Day Nineteen..._

"I bring you a message." The demon spoke with new authority, his clan's representative now that the rest had been slaughtered.

"How dare you appear in my home, in the middle of the-"

"She says you will never destroy her, or chain her power."

"You traveled back to bring me that news? I know she says that, that is why she must be destroyed, the line begun again, clean. With proper allegiance." Travers allowed himself a burst of fury before reverting to his usual calm, dispassionate demeanor. "So you failed."

The remaining demon did not consider their heroic attack and the near defeat of the Slayer and her crony a failure, but the human would, and Travers had some form of power over him. He chose not to mince words, and simply get home as soon as possible. "Yes. However, all of my brethren, and my clan father, were sacrificed in the attempt, so I trust you will not invoke the wrath of the _rest _of my kind, and release me from my summons."

Travers' mind whirred. Momentarily unsettled by the creature's appearance before him, he now was more alert and was able to sort that out. He was the summoner, and therefore the demon had the ability to manifest in his presence. And these demons were particularly hard to dispatch. He answered factually, "Provided you can supply me her whereabouts- and any other pertinent details, I will release you to your realm." _Before you exact your misguided revenge on me, for merely doing what I must. _

"I have her location, and certain human landmarks as well as physical features you might use to specify her dwelling." He passed him a torn piece of tunic covered in symbols. "Since you summoned us, I assume you can decipher our writing?"

"Fairly well." Travers scanned it eagerly. "Is that all?"

"A few more helpful pieces of knowledge." He played nice, cooperation being the key to his safe return. "She has someone else with her. From their scents, we assumed he was her mate. One she calls 'Spike'."

"_Spike_? William the Bloody? A vampire?" Travers was out of his bed altogether now, neatly monogrammed silk pajamas crinkling as he paced in outrage. "The filthy creature! He told her my plan, he must have warned her! He must have-" he paused, "We are speaking of a vampire?"

"Yes." The demon hesitated. "A word of advice about the removal of our now common enemies. You-"

Travers glared and reached into his bedside table, where a glowing trinket rested, waiting to shatter and trap the hell dweller between realms."You presume to offer me, the head of the most powerful force of good in the world, of the most knowledgeable forces in the world, tips on killing a few little human or half-human rodents?"

"I do." He reached forward quickly and seized the talisman as Travers drew it out, capturing it in his unyielding palm. The man had no choice but to draw his hand back or have his fingers crushed. Now Travers couldn't trap him, but he still might keep him prisoner of this world. The demonic messenger continued to speak. "We are the fiercest trackers of our kind. We feed on demons. We kill them daily. Humans are child's play, not even worth the inconvenience of a single blow. Our Chieftain had centuries of hunting." His orange eyes in the cracking, pulpy face were sweltering now, and flames involuntarily burst from his talons. "Yet he died at her hands. Four of us dead- in a scant hour or so." His sulfuric breath billowed against Travers' cold, expressionless face.

"Those two cannot be killed. If isolated from each other, possibly, but if you tried to separate them, that would also be unsuccessful. You can send demons- they will fail. You can send humans, they will fail more miserably. The two of them together- they are a deadly combination. At this moment, from what little I saw, I believe only _they_ could kill each other. Or perhaps die by their own hands."

Travers scoffed. "I've seen sixteen- or so- Slayers come and go, and perhaps a few thousand vampires. They all die. They are made to do so, the human frame can only withstand so much, even with the help of Watchers and a Council to provide guidance."

He was patient with the human. As the summoner, he had him in his grasp, either to keep him imprisoned in this realm, or to send him home. For the moment, the threat of suspension in limbo was minimized since he had the talisman in his hand. He went on,"She allowed me to live in order to send you a message. Listen to me this time, instead of mocking. She said that you want to control her power."

"Yes, yes, she dislikes that aspect of being the Chosen One. However, it's merely a gift to her, a cosmic chance. _We_ have the carefully harvested knowledge on how to use it. The Slayer is hardly more than girl, with teeming strength. It is our training, our resources that empower her." Travers explained. "She _belongs_ to me. To the Council."

His unwilling henchman continued as though he had not heard._ Humans. Such a waste of blood._ "She said she was aware you tried to steal it with drugs and tame it with rules. That you've tried to kill her, sacrifice her, and even duplicate her. She wishes you to know that it will not work. It is hers now. Hers alone, and you cannot take it from her. She suggests-" he paused dramatically, eyes narrowing, fully agreeing with the girl he'd tried to kill, "that you _get your own_."

Travers was stunned. Truths he'd hidden for a long time bubbled near the surface in an attempt to force their way into his disturbed, megalomaniacal mind. "Leave at once!" He hissed, blocking all considerations of his true motives from his mind.

"As you wish." The demon bowed and sighed thankfully as he was swept back into his own world, the summons ended with Travers' cry.

* * *

Travers cursed. Cursed, paced, and mulled. She survived several of the most feared vampires of the past millennium, vampires of mythic proportions. Demons, monsters, even rogue slayers as strong as she. She turns the most ruthless into her allies, she broke the stoicism of a third generation Watcher. He's survived mobs, Slayers, rival vampires of his own. Neither of them can be bought, persuaded. Even threats failed.

_I believe only they could kill each other, or perhaps die by their own hands._

His fevered pacing stopped._ Perhaps the indirect approach might be best after all... Who better to kill the girl- than the girl herself?_

* * *

To be continued...


	19. Chapter 19

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Smut warning! Also a little blood, but in a meaningful way, not in a carnal way. Not exactly carnal that is. The point is, it's relevant. Oh, heck. Standard author's warning- Smut warning! Skim if you gotta. _

_Author's Second Note: For those of you who were demanding answers and expressing confusion- this chapter offers some illumination, more to follow._

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, micmoc, Alottalove, Embers and Flames, Haleycc Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, SushiBar, Touch the Dark, ValidescopeWest, Rachel, Cavementftw, ammuna, Cantanatova, marty powell, Sanity Fair, Hbmckidd, DragonMouse,Seapea, Blade Redwind, Maire Ailbhe, Illusera, ShyL, Illusera, NausicA, Kerry220, ry123red, mike13z50, Lyzzybelle, and PeaceHeather._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XIX**

_Day Eighteen (Pacific time)..._

"We should move, huh?" Buffy was enjoying just sitting near him, or rather, halfway on him.

"I know. We'll do the wash, get the door put back on, and figure out someplace else to go. Don't think we can fly, so it'll have to be -" Spike regretfully slide his arm from under her shoulders.

"I meant move as in 'get up'. 'Cause we've been vegging and we have stuff to do." Buffy got off the couch and frowned.

He frowned as well. "All well and good, but after we get this place back to outwardly normal, think we'd better hightail it."

Buffy hesitated, then shook her head. "No. I'm done running."

Spike looked into her eyes. _There you go. She's the real deal, the thing monsters hide under the beds from. No off switch either. You just trained yourself out of a job. _"Alright then." He felt something that had recently started to fill in get hollowed out again, get pained and a little angry, with a lot of denial thrown in. "Well, I'm fixin' the damn door before we go! I signed a rental agreement- with a false name. And a dead man's credit card- so... So never mind. But I do need somethin' to wear an' I think we probably have three or four more hours before they get the next delegation of baddies out here. No, never, mind, I've been in filthy wet clothes before, I can be again, not like it's _my_ car's upholstery we're ruinin'. Pack your bags, I'll get the car loaded." He began to storm past her.

"Huh? Whoa, wait!" Buffy snagged his arm.

"Don't!" He hissed at her. "If it's over, it's over, I don't hold on to ... fine, I do, but I'm not gonna-" An angry tidal wave of words broke, ebbed, and was gearing up for another crash, but she stopped him with a single disdainful huff.

"If you'd shout a little less and listen a little more, you wouldn't look like such a jerky ass sometimes." Buffy took her hand back and defensively crossed her arms.

"You tell him I still get the Eye. Done my end of the bargain." Spike snorted sullenly, shutting up with a scowl at the end. _It's the same, init? I thought it wouldn't be with her- not that I was thinkin' like that, but... I cross lines, I break rules, I risk my life, I - I looked after her the best I can and she's leavin' when she feels like it, not even askin' me. I know it's different. This was just a job. _

_ Hurts the same. Shouldn't. But it does. Bugger._

Buffy looked at him with apprehensive eyes, fighting down sparks of anger and the urge to just smack the back of his head for giving her the angry rambling stuff he'd just unleashed. "I mean, I am done running away from these goons he sends. Like you said, this is a good, defensible place. And there aren't too many innocent people in the way up here, and hey- we can blame a lot of crazy big monsters on angry bears." She watched him smile briefly, just a half twitch in pale lips. _Ooh, pretty. Stop that! _ "It's always felt wrong to be running away. Slayers don't run away, we run in! We're the- we're the supernatural firefighters. 'Oh look, danger- save the day' kind of people!" Buffy tried to explain and got another twitchy smile.

"I get it. You don't run. So-"

"So I want to finish a sentence! You interrupt like a two year old!" Buffy put her hands to her head. "I can't go home either! This is like- this is like a tactical position thing now. I'm not hiding, as much I'm worried about them hurting my-" she swallowed, "my mom. Or my friends. In the process."

"I still think you oughta hide a bit." Spike mumbled.

"Well, yeah because it's me. Like I'm worried about my family because I care about them, you're worried about me because you c-" _Oh. Oops. I don't think we're supposed to say that. _"Because you like me enough not to want me to get killed. Right now." Buffy rambled, twisting her hands suddenly.

"An' what's that make me?" He joked to relieve the overwhelming emotional tension she'd just released. "Chopped liver? Cannon fodder? You want _me_ out here with you. Don't you?"

Blue eyes flickering, green eyes shy, but unwavering, trying to look cool.

"I know you can take care of yourself. That's all. I don't want to go home and put everyone else at risk, and there's no point in running away again either. He keeps finding us, and there's not a lot of places we can go with a thousand bucks, fake IDs, and no passports. There isn't going to be a safe place." _Except with you._

_Except with us. We're a damn fortress._ "I never liked runnin' away either. I'm the stayin' and gettin' dirty type." Spike murmured with a quiet nod of agreement.

"Okay then."

"Right. Better call an' check in. Maybe this trial or whatever they're doin' will be over soon an' we can get an ETA on the good news."

"I better call." Buffy realized and hustled away. He followed her a step or two, then turned back to shore up the door.

"Spike?"

"Slayer?"

"I don't throw people away. I know what it feels like." Buffy told him quietly, not looking back at him, then went to find the phone.

Spike smiled as he pushed the couch into a firmer angle and wedged it so it couldn't be budged easily, and jammed the coffee table beside it instead of on top of it. "Knew I liked her."

* * *

"It's her!" Willow whispered in a thrilled, relieved screech.

"Of course it's her, who else would call on the wallet-phone?" Xander's voice was quickly growing louder.

"The wallet-phone. That sounds so lame and sort of like Bat Mobile-y." Willow chided.

"Mother's rights, give me that." Joyce pulled the phone away breathlessly. "Sweetie?"

"Mom! Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't we be? Are_ you_ okay, that's what we want to know."

"Oh... yeah. Yeah. we're fine. You know. Chilling. Missing you and being terminally homesick. Needing to go to the mall so bad."

"Buffy." Joyce's tone indicated she didn't like the sugar-coated version.

"Seriously! We're fine. We're just about to do some laundry and uh- we went for a walk and swim this morning." _If by walk you mean fleeing for your life and by swim you mean plunged into a chilly lake from the top of a semi-mountain._

Joyce looked at the phone curiously, then sighed. "We haven't seen anyone from that agency-"

"The Council." Willow supplied.

"-around, but Mr. Giles said they would be keeping an eye on us."

"You're not being left alone are you? Like- you guys are staying together as much as you can, right?"

"Yes. Willow even did a protection spell- or was it a charm?- around the house."

"Look at that, Super Witch!" Buffy grinned, fighting a tug of warmth and wave of frustration at not just being able to reach out and high five her best friends or hug her mom. The emotions won, and made her stomach cramp up with longing. She sat on the bed and rubbed her abdomen, trying to keep her tone perky.

"Well... it's sorta working." Willow spoke into the phone as Joyce tilted it towards her.

"The mailman thinks your mom's house have really bad static electricity." Xander muttered, trying not to laugh.

"Huh?"

"It gives off a little shock to anyone but us, okay? I'm new at this! Which brings me to _your_ protection spell-"

"No hurry!"

"It won't work. You need monk wort burning in a silver bowl."

"Um. I have a pot and a frying pan?"

"That's not the issue. It's the monk wort. You'd have to go into town and buy some at a magic store, or go on the internet-"

"No internet."

"Or to a library with a big botany - or occult section-"

"No library."

"Or have me show you a picture - which I know, I can't do that either! So somehow, without knowing what it looks like, you'd have to go out and hope you could find some growing wherever the hell you are!" Willow slammed her spell book closed and rubbed her head.

"Whoa. Wills..."

"I'm a witch! I'm supposed to be able to do something _useful_ with magic!" Willow sniffled in annoyance, letting Xander put his arm around her as Joyce patted her shoulder soothingly.

Xander took the phone. "Look, the thing is, you need some kind of herb to do almost all these spells we found, even if you're not able to 'perform' magic. As long as you have the right words and some funky leaves, you're good. But magic stores- not so easy to find. And um- we don't know who is watching you, or where. Some magic stores are bad guy friendly, some aren't, some... yeah. We hit a wall and the Willster is getting a little cranky."

"All of us are getting a little cranky." Buffy sighed. Outside the bedroom door, she could hear Spike cursing away and banging around- looking for laundry detergent, she imagined.

"But they haven't found you yet, that's the main thing. They haven't, right?"

Outright lying wouldn't work. So she hedged."Well... maybe they found us a little. No big. We took care of them."

Her words caused an outbreak of screaming and gasping, everyone talking over each other in a frantic cacophony. "Look! I know it's scary! I can handle it! _We_ can handle it! But I need to talk to Giles, okay?"

"He's not back yet."

"He's not? Have you- have you guys even heard from him?" Buffy's stomach tightened again, throbbing with tension, swarmed with images of hit men in dark suits and dark corners attacking her friend.

"He can't call us. It'd be too risky." Joyce reclaimed the phone. "He can't call this phone because if they're watching him from over there, they could get this number, and if he calls our house phone- well, he thinks they're still checking the phone records, and we can't explain a long distance call from England too easily. He's officially not supposed to be out of the country. I don't know he's managing to convince- never mind. That doesn't matter now! Who found you, how many, what did you do? Did they see you, did-"

The line abruptly fell silent. "Mom?" Buffy sat up straighter, then stood. "Mom!"

Spike put down the near empty bottle of cheap detergent he'd found under the kitchen counter and cocked his head, muscles suddenly stiffening.

"It's Oz. His van just parked on the street. He's been coming over, or Willow sees him at his place, every day." Joyce hissed. "Willow's going to tell him we're busy now-"

"No, listen. I know it's for his own safety that you don't tell him- or anyone else- that I'm alive. But I know," she swallowed, "what it's like to miss the people you're close to. Tell him to stay and hang out. Watch movies, eat popcorn, don't spend all your time looking in books. Go get your mind off the bad. You too, Mom. I know they're just kids to you, but they're cool kids. Well- in the outcast way."

Joyce waved Willow to the door and hurried upstairs, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Her baby sounded so grown up, so mature, so- so wise. It scared her. "They're very sweet."

"I know. I love you. I love everyone. Tell them, okay?"

"I'll tell them. Honey, are you sure you're..."

"I'm_ fine_, Mom. Tell Giles to call me as soon as he can." Buffy hung up the phone before her mother could protest more. _Dammit. I wanna go_ home. She rubbed at her eyes.

Spike's low, brusque voice made her jump, coming from behind her in the doorway of the bedroom. "Mum and the brats alright?"

"Uh-huh." Buffy stood and forced herself to smile brightly.

"Told 'em?"

"Some. Interrupted."

"Ah."

_How do we have so many big moments that keep slamming down into little seconds where there's nothing?_ Buffy forced the smile to remain. "Laundry?"

"Yeah, an' this time I got the soap right. Gimme your dirty stuff."

She looked around in a daze, mentally about a thousand miles down the coast, with people she wondered if she'd ever see again. She absently piled up her clothes and he gently took them from her arms after she stood holding them for a moment, a vacant look in her eyes. "Thanks."

"No worries." Spike took the clothes and made his way back to the small stacked washer and dryer hiding in the corner off the kitchen. He took off his stained and torn clothes as well and shoved them all in, hearing the agitator creak and thud as it tried to shift everything around the basin. "As long as you don't overflow or soap up the place, you're golden." Spike told it conspiratorially, then patted the machine's lid and strolled back into the bedroom.

The Slayer was on the edge of the bed, picking at a torn nail with strangely bright eyes. "No flooding?" She heard him enter, but didn't look up at him.

"Not a drop." He sat down behind her, pulling the sheet to his bare midsection. "It'll be dark enough to drive in a couple hours. Hit the lumber place first, get a few sketchy directions, then the shops, yeah? Little outing?"

"Mhm. We can head down now if you want. I was half-asleep when we drove up the first time, but isn't town about an hour away? I can drive that."

"You? _You_ wanna drive down the mountain?" Spike pressed his palm to the back of her neck. Right. Cool hands. Perceive the heat but not strictly accurate, so he wasn't sure if she had a fever or not. She flinched slightly under his touch but didn't shrug him off.

"I didn't get killed by five big demon dudes made out of coal and attitude. I threw myself off of a cliff. I bet I can drive. Some." She shrugged blandly.

His hand continued down the side of her neck, to her tight shoulder blades. "Okay, Luv, bet you can. But not on your own."

"Of course not, you'd hide in the-" Buffy turned to face him. Her eyes widened and she gasped, then fell off the edge with a thump. "Why are you pants-less?" She demanded.

Spike had to laugh, she looked so shocked, and pretty damn comical, sitting on her backside with an "I-just-woke-up" expression. He sprawled face down on the bed, arms crossed under his chin, smirking down on her. "Because, Slayer, you tore my last clean clothes right off my back."

Buffy blushed, recalling the frenzied moments earlier. "Oh. Yeah. Still, those weren't your only clothes!"

"I didn't pack much, and every stitch I own is in the wash. An' unless you fancy me goin' around in nothin' but m'coat..."

_Well, _that's _an image_. Buffy's heart pumped a little extra blood due south. "H-how long does that thing take?"

"Put it on max, what with blood an' mud an' all. Maybe an hour? Then that again for dryin'? I dunno, I was preoccupied last time we did the laundry, what with you caterwaulin' in my ear about bein' a bad houseguest and then those damned nosy neighbors..."

Buffy shook her head at him. _He's like a- a really pale, smooth lion or something. The king of the jungle never thinks he needs clothes. Like Spike. Just prowls around, sprawls out, confronts civil servants- without ever thinking "Hey, maybe some boxers would look good on me right now." Nah, boxer briefs. Or maybe one of those really tight- what am I doing!?_ "You are one of the weirdest people I've ever met." Buffy finally sighed, rolling her eyes and sitting on her knees. An arm's length separated them.

His arm made use of it. His fingers reached out and touched her freestyle hair, clouding in wisps over cloudy eyes. "Same. But not weird. Unique. Amazin'."

"Strangely amazing." Buffy scooted her brow against his teasing fingertips.

He waited. Her eyes cleared, as he'd predicted. "You think?" She asked him, inching forward. His hand slid behind her head and pulled her forward, lips touching lips. "I know it, Buffy."

Somehow the kiss turned into a tug of war, all one sided, him anchoring his hands behind her neck to drag her from her knees to the bed beside him.

"I hate days like today." Buffy edged up beside him and crashed onto her back, looking up at him as he was propped up on his side.

"I used to. Invasions, threats, fire, demons with lighter fluid fingertips, nosy men with badges... Then I saw you in action."

She smiled. "You look pretty impressive yourself. When you're on my side."

"You look damn hot as a badass. Makin' deals with demons, layin' it on the line." He rested a hand on the thin fabric covering her hip. "Like you bein' on my side, too."

"I'm not. You're on mine." She corrected sternly.

"Yeah?" He taunted playfully.

"Yeah!" The fight abruptly left her. She didn't feel like playing. "No. Fine. Whatever, no sides, okay? Just - just us."

Defensiveness and teasing left him as well. "Sure." _We- we've done that before. I guess. _"Just us."

* * *

No one said it was only for now, only some until their individual somedays arrived, no one said anything about who they ought to be with or used to be with, or how things ought to be, full stop.

No one said much of anything.

* * *

Spike's hands slid easily under her shirt. He'd seen this body multiple times now, but he only enjoyed it more. Like he was seeing it through new eyes, not lust driven, or hidden in flickering lights, or through the pain and rush of injury then victory. _She's just a girl. My girl. _

_When did the kissing get so... real?_ Buffy's tongue stroked his thoroughly, caressingly. All of their motions were caressing this time. Every little swathe of muscle and inch of pearl, just for her fingers. So much stress, or was it hardness? Layers and layers to this guy that she wanted to find out about.

_Because I want him with me and I want him to be- I want him to be with me._

* * *

This was different from any of the other times. This was- gentle and seeking.

Spike nuzzled his head to hers and kissed down the curve of her honeyed neck, kissing his recently inflicted bite, making her shiver but not pull away from him. "Such a givin' girl."

"Mhm." Buffy shivered again.

"When's the last time someone gave back what you give?"

"You. Then before that... you." Rueful smiles exchanged.

"Well then, let's-'

"Hang on- what about you? Did you two...?" Buffy trailed off. She liked this. The pleasure and the conversation and the not really having to choose her words carefully to avoid hurting a broody, moody guy who it was hard to start conversations with anyway.

Spike considered. Like this? Purely giving and all soft and sweet and- without the thrill of a looming sudden surprise, either disturbing or enjoyable? "You. And before that... you."

"You don't have to lie."

"Look at my eyes, Baby. Do I look like I'm lying?"

_That's so sad. But the first time or a hundred times- it's still pretty sad we had to wait to get into a situation so ludicrous that we had to have sex- or make love- with our mortal enemy before we could get to this point._ "Well then. Let's."

* * *

He nibbled his way from neck to breasts and lovingly lapped at her tight little peaks. She groaned when he so much as touched the pointed nub. Her hips lifted off the bed when he closed his teeth around the crinkly circles surrounding them. Instead of pushing that envelope and seeing if he could make it happen again, for some reason he decided he ought to keep moving down the side of her breast, paused, and wriggled her up onto her side.

"Hm?"

"Pretty front, pretty back." He informed her between kisses and swished his tongue over her shoulder, making a soft trail until he could kiss each notch on her spine.

Buffy's muscles locked as his palm pressed her from her side to face down. Shouldn't be behind me, I can't see what he's doing, her hyper aware slayer voice hissed.

_He has my back. Figuratively. Literally. This is just more literally. He has control over himself, I saw that. _The rush of blood made all her pulse points pound, and the recently probed one on her neck reminded her she trusted the man cupping her waist.

Spike felt her relax, heard her sigh and settle. _She does trust me._ He waited for the evil-fueled contrariness to prod him into doing something, even something small, just to make her jump. Nothing came.

_Slayer-whipped._ His dark brows drew together and he sucked particularly hard in a neglected spot on her lower back.

"Ohhhh. Spike. Mm." She moaned, and the sighed prettily.

_Forget whipped. Just Slayered._ "Yeah, Baby?"

"You're really good at this." Buffy's toes flexed. _Should be scared. Should be freaking. I basically slapped Travers in the face with a "you can't get me" glove, like they do in old movies before everyone starts counting off ten paces._

_ But I feel safe when he's near me. _

She squirmed up abruptly, just as Spike sank his thumbs into her perfectly plump enough cheeks and was about to bow down for a little oral delight. "Hey?" _My treat, dammit..._

"I can't do any giving in that position." Buffy smiled and stole a kiss, leaning into him as they both sat or knelt on the bed.

"Actually, there are a lot of-" Spike cut his own sentence short this time, as her warm, flicking, tasting tongue captured an earlobe and almost made him giggle. He smiled instead and laid back, loving how easily she fell with him, and how he could feel her smile against his skin.

* * *

They weren't used to this, him because he was out of practice, her because it had never happened. It was reminiscent of their first night of semi-intimacy in that hotel room, long, unhurried kissing and touching, only this was beyond lust or comforting. This was even beyond the gift they'd given each other earlier. This was deliberate - caring. Showing how much they - cared. Because it felt eerily like the "other word" sometimes, so care was the word that kept reasserting itself in both their minds.

"Do guys like this?" Buffy locked her lips over his chest.

"This guy does." He let both his hands wander down to massage her breasts, thumbs stroking over and down, over and back up, making her nipple indent and spring back on each stroke. "God, these things are just such fun." He couldn't contain his exuberance. Buffy sank her teeth firmly into his own little cluster of flesh and he yelped- happily. "Oooh. I love that."

Her heart gave an extra hard thump.

He could feel it. "Love everything you do." He whispered. The telltale zing under her breast, under his hand, happened again.

_Poor little thing. Must be awful to think you've already had and lost the one great love of your life._

_ I should know. _

Buffy forced herself to stop thinking sticky gooey thoughts and made her breathing stop speeding up. "If you like that, then I know what'll blow you away." She skidded down him, before he could anchor her, and winked as she paused below his waist. "No pun intended."

"Oh God. Ohhhh, bloody hell. Bloody, fuckin' hell, Luv you could convert vampires y'know." Spike groaned. Such an agile mouth and so much hotter and wetter than what he was accustomed to. She was enthusiastic this time, although he suspected it was only going to last for a minute, just a gesture.

"Ew. This is not for vampire conversion. This is for _you_.This is because I love- making you -" _Crap! I don't love making him happy, I don't know what I meant to say. I don't know what this is. I don't really care._ She kissed his thigh with a frustrated little noise. "We were doing way better without the talking."

"Love makin' you feel good too, Pet." Spike worked his fingers easily under her chin, and crooked them, guiding her eyes to his. "I don't have to talk to show you."

"Sometimes I think-" Buffy lifted her shoulders, inadvertently snuggling his cock between her breasts as she held this position over him. He spasmed happily, and she was forced to smile in return. "Sometimes I think I get carried away."

"Sometimes you get carried to nice places, isn't that all that matters?"

Buffy swallowed. "As long as you don't hurt anybody going, I guess."

"You know I won't hurt you. An' you already promised me once," he hated to spoil the pretty picture of buttery cleavage against him, but needs must, "that you wouldn't go stabbin' me in the heart." He drew her towards him.

"I wouldn't. I would never do that to someone I- care about." Buffy winced as the words escaped.

He thought his heart was beating, but it was only the rapid flexion of his chest, the contraction of his shoulders. "I can tell. Same for me." He blinked hard.

"Really? Same?"

_Oh fuck, here we go... I can always claw m'way back out. If I fall._

_ Never have before._

_ Yeah, but I never had _her_ before. I can do all sorts of things around her._

"Same."

* * *

Amazing how something so intense can be so gentle.

He moved into her, and in and out, long, even strokes, chest to chest, forehead to forehead, him unblinking, her with eyes closed.

He was going to crack her in half. And that was good. Deeper was better. Her hands dug themselves into his cheeks and pulled.

"Shh, Sweetie." He broke off kissing her as his tip was put in a fleshy lockdown and her petite frame bucked hard.

"Didn't talk."

"Your body is screamin' at me." He bent his lips to her ear. "Doesn't have to. I'm a real good listener. Fluent in Slayer."

"Nu-uh." She argued breathlessly.

"Am so. Fast learner."

"Prove it."

"I love a challenge."

* * *

The washer had long since stopped, and neither cared. The light filtering through the blue curtain gave off an orange glow. They had to get going soon, things to be done.

It's hard to leave paradise, though.

They rolled for the final time, this time having been a mass of long deep strokes and thrusts and endless position changes. Buffy wouldn't class what she was doing as riding him, instead flattened to him and swimming across him, her legs making lazy butterfly motions while his arms were draped protectively around her back and sides, one hand on the back of her head, holding her so tightly to his chest.

She could feel him shuddering, his fingertips bruised her back as he clung, hips sending him deeper, more searchingly inside her.

Spike could feel her grinding and pulsing, only everything was set in slow motion. Her teeth sank lightly into his forearm and he groaned under her whimper. "Let it go, Luv, it's time."

She shook her head stubbornly. Some burning pleasure hadn't reached the explosive level she expected. Maybe it was the angle. "Gimme a minute."

"I'll give you a lot more than that." He chuckled and locked his elbow tight to the back of her head, tilting her face up. Spike bent to kiss, she scooted up and met him. He pounded into to her from underneath as she rained down on him with the same fevered intensity, both suddenly unleashed.

_But it's still- it's still something more._ His kiss was passionate and determined and longing, and his hands were locked with hers now, resting on his chest.

_What's she do? How's she do this? Make it feel all soft and sweet- and like you won't stop shootin' for an hour when it finally pops?_

_ Dunno, but I like it._

_ Whatever it is, I want it. I want to keep feeling like that. _

Twin gasps, twin eruptions, a long, slow race with a sprint at the end.

"More, more, more, dammit, push yourself you can do it." Spike growled in ecstasy.

"Oh fuck! Fuck, I love this, that's - oh wow!" Buffy lost whatever reserve she had as she pounded to him, raising off a little then sinking all the way on and then still but for her climactic shaking. His climax, juddering, uneven spurts streaming out inside her at the most sensitive, already quivering part- sent her over again.

That's new, Spike thought appreciatively, watching his orgasm prolong hers. _Although I can't blame her... _Her walls trembled on his tip and made him growl again._ I love this woman, bloody hell, she's fantastic. _In his enthusiasm, he wasn't even aware of the deeper aspects, the hinting, of his sexually based thoughts.

He waited for some even louder commentary on her pleasure. He found her silent scream, her frantic mouthing of "Spike... Spike!" with her rapidly pounding heart and flying blood, topped with fluttering eyelids, to be immensely more satisfying.

With a final shudder she fell back to his chest, sweat damp hair over his neck and his hands involuntarily kneading the soft pad of skin where her back widened to her hips.

"Beautiful." He murmured.

"Way beautiful." She mumbled hazily, kissing his shoulder as she sat up.

"We gotta get up. Night's comin' on."

"Can't move. Leg muscles died."

"Alright, Superhero. I'll go swap the clothes, you enjoy being weak and feeble. For once." He winked and kissed her lingeringly. And again.

"This is not getting the clothes dry." Buffy finally pushed him back gently. "Also, for the record, I'm not weak and feeble. I'm just a little jellied."

"True." _An' I'd like to see what' it's like to take you again, when you're limp and boneless. But the job demands sacrifice... Damn white hats and responsibility._ He pushed her off with a burst of wetness across them both, and ignored the blush on her cheeks. "Be right back."

"I'll be right here."

Spike sat up and shook out his muscles, staring down at her as she buried her face in the mattress with a contented sigh.

He watched her turn, admiring her beautiful, lithe body, the supple spine, those grabbable cheeks, that hot little pink-_ oh shit._

He looked at her, looked back at his own groin, and back at her. _Shit! _ Little tinges of red, on both of them. _What'd we do? How'd I not notice it? Must be faint, must not be too bad. Bloody hell._

Buffy felt the atmosphere change in the room. Her partner stiffened, gave off a vibe that she disliked, a watchful, apprehensive vibe. "What's wrong?" The vampire looked grim, he was staring at her with closed over eyes, something calculating in them.

Buffy reached for his arm, then stopped. "Wh-what's going on?" _Please don't. Please don't- _she couldn't even finish the ever had one other lover. He'd pulled away too- just when she'd given him everything.

"Don't get mad." His hands went firmly to his midsection. "An' don't hit anything soft an' dangly if you do."

"What are you talking about?" Buffy cried.

"Went a little hard. Y'know, super humans..." She stared at him. "I hurt you, alright?" _She trusted me. I was gonna give, and she was gonna give, and no one was supposed to get hurt. _

_ Keep this up, I'll turn into Angelus, Darla... even Drusilla. The kind that takes for his own pleasure, not worried about the other's. _

_ No. Never gonna be one of them._

"Huh?" Buffy shook her head. "No. No, no."

"Yes. Yes, look, I didn't mean too, but I-" He reached for her, pulled her back to his side, hands hesitating on the bunched up sheets. "Not bad, prolly, but I don't know how it works with Slayer pieces, so..." He shrugged and trailed off.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Buffy looked at him with a confused frown.

"I must've- with you ridin', and me thrustin', an' I'm hard, an' you're soft." He rambled. He gestured to her pelvis.

"I feel fine." She insisted.

"You. Are. _Bleeding_." He tossed the sheets back with an angry yet guilty expression.

"Oh. Oh, no, no, oh my God!" Buffy looked mortified and embarrassed and began scrambling back, away from him.

"No, Slayer, Buffy listen." He fought to get a grip on her arms, pull her back.

"You don't understand, get off, it's not-"

"Don't pull away from me!" He yanked hard, instantly regretting his outburst, physical and verbal.

She stopped resisting._ Don't pull away from me._ Her arm went limp in his hand.

"I never meant to hurt you." He whispered. She fell back at the slightest touch, looking up at him as he leaned over her, on his side, blue eyes desperate. "Love makin' with someone like you- I mean, there was no stoppin' an' you were so soft, an' you just felt so bloody wet, I didn't realize-"

"It's not that." Buffy cut him off.

"It's not?"

"I'm not hurt." She repeated. "We have to go to town."

"I know that, but don't change the bloody subject. An' I'm not so sure if you should come now, if you're- oh bloody hell, do we-" he swallowed, "do we go to the hospital for this?" _Can you stitch that? She was loose enough, she was wet enough! Dammit, I thought I was takin' good care of her! _

"I need tampons." Buffy glared.

Spike blinked. His mind froze._ Blood- good. Free blood somehow related to her bits and pieces, but not painfully obtained, meaning I didn't hurt her, also good. _That aisle he never went into in the grocery store- mind back to frozen. "Get in the car."

"Seriously?"

"No, right, clothes first. Stay- right there." He sniffed at her. "Although-"

"NO!"

"Right, stay there!"

"I need my purse!"

"Then- get your purse. Just don't - hurt yourself."

Buffy cocked her head. "You are completely freaked, aren't you?"

"No. Normal. Healthy. Yummy-"

"Don't get creepy, okay?"

"I'm not, I'm just a vampire."

"Like I said, 'Don't get creepy'. It lasts for a few days and then it's gone, okay? If I had thought we'd be on the run for more than a week I would have packed more than my 'always in my purse for an emergency' supply."

"I know! I know about humans..." He got a mulish look on his face. _Just forgot about it for a minute because I actually care about you bein' okay. Feel responsible for you, even though I know I don't have to be. _ "I'll go put the clothes in. Do whatever."

* * *

_An hour later..._

They slid into the Buick and drove in silence. Buffy looked miserable, and uncomfortable.

_An' that's still pain I caused her._

"I thought I hurt you. I told you I wouldn't. I told you I'd keep you safe. As I could. Felt like a jerk. An' like you'd probably bust my nose for goin' so hard."

Buffy's chest loosened, and her face transformed, still guarded but no longer so wretched. "I would have said stop if it hurt."

"No, see, that's not how makin' love is supposed to be, you're supposed to be prepared for what they want, not have to-"

"How would you know what I want? We're new at this." Buffy crossed her arms and pointed out.

"I hate that you make me feel like this." He whispered harshly, eyes locked on the darkening road.

Buffy recoiled. _Feel like this? There's a _this_? _"Sorry." She whispered back.

"Hate that I love it so much."

Recoil released, she automatically leaned into his side with a little half hiccup of a sob. "Same here. It's all part of the 'being strange' thing, right?"

"I guess."

"You didn't hurt me." She reiterated staunchly.

"I know." He answered testily.

"But if you had- I could forgive you. You know- if it was an accident!"

"I get it, Slayer."

"People hurt each other all the time. They still forgive. You- for being evil and soulless, you're obviously great at forgiving." _I don't think I would be busting my butt- and every other body part-on a mission of mercy for someone who cheated on me. Especially not for someone who cheated on me while I was in a wheelchair I landed in while curing her! Man, tell that story and leave out the vampire-part, and this guy's the patron saint of love._

"I'm not used to that. Not lately." Spike confessed. Drusilla's ability to hold a grudge on this one issue was- well, it was illogical, unreasonable. Insane. Hence accepting the offer he couldn't refuse, the trip he was on, the girl he was with, the things they did... _Hence the Slayer. That sums it up._

"I'm not either. It's either all or nothing. Nothing in the middle."

"I like all. But I'll take middle." _For her. Once in a deathtime opportunity, an' it'll be over soon._

"Me, too."

_Wait a minute, what are we saying? We're taking something? We're meeting in the middle? There's a middle?_

"For now, Slayer."

"Right. For now..."

* * *

_Day Nineteen (United Kingdom Time)..._

Travers let himself into the Watcher's London Headquarters, using the private entrance reserved for the Head of Council. Watchmen guarded the building- but not every location at once. Dressed impeccably as always, and with the serious, contemplative look of a man who has important business that requires him to rush to the office in the wee hours of the morning, Travers walked through the building as if he owned it.

He passed several rooms of files and then weapons storage, taking the stairs, passing silently and unnoticed. Next the apothecary and herbal storage area, and that door he opened. There he passed the kits of drugs used for Cruciamentum- most of them dusty. No Slayer but Summers had made it to that age in many years, or those that had been called after the age of eighteen hadn't lived for a length of time to warrant the test's administration.

He opened the cabinets with a deft twist of a small golden key, the Head of Council's master key that opened all doors in the building. He slipped several vials out of the glass fronted cabinets and looked at their antiquated labels.

_Inject into the vein_. No good._ Inject into the skin_. No. Ah. _Liquid suspension, to be administered orally. _He chose the last and tucked it into his breast pocket, humming quietly.

"Now then... what else have we got?" He smiled contentedly as he walked to the cabinets of venoms, anti-venoms, herbs, tinctures, thousands upon thousands of potion ingredients and specimens collected for study, laboriously labeled and logged- and rarely inventoried. His smile turned faintly malicious as he slid the rolling wooden ladder across the shelves to the "M" section.

Fifteen minutes later, Travers left with several stoppered bottles clinking softly in his pocket.

* * *

_Several hours later..._

"This is maddening. I feel as though_ I'm _the one on trial." Wesley paced and took a now rumpled linen square from his pocket and dabbed his forehead.

"We are on trial." Abby said, flicking ash around the pristine drawing room in which they were waiting. "Goin' against Travers is like signin' your own death warrant, if they don't take our side."

"Very comforting, old man." Robson helped himself to the decanter on the sideboard.

"Robbie! It's not even noon!"

"Just a small one, my love." Robson muttered absently. "Giles?"

"None for me. I just wish they'd stop deliberating and out with it! Reject the evidence, refute it, agree with it, only stop making a bloody mess of it so I can get home and check on her!" Giles polished his glasses and then sank back in the Queen Anne chair with a stifled groan. "Abby, stop flinging ash about this place, this is a listed home, and the furnishings are priceless." He distracted himself from his inner turmoil by criticizing his somewhat slovenly colleague.

"That's for you curator types. Looks dead naff to me. Not one recliner in the whole place."

"I'm sorry to hear you say that, Mr. Aberswyth." A well bred voice interjected.

As one, the small band of "renegades" were on their feet, and making deferential words and gestures to their host.

"We're ready to meet with you." Fallows said, and motioned them into a large room down the hall, a cross between a study and office, where grave faces confronted them.

"You have produced most damning evidence, Wyndham-Pryce."

"Yes, Sir." Wesley tried not to gasp out the words as he was talking.

Fallows, the appointed spokesperson tilted his head and looked at the polished young man. _Hm. Not nearly such a snotty little swot as his father described him. Robson, good dependable sort. Aberswyth, well... the Welsh, don't you know. As for Rupert Giles... _"Most damning indeed."

"You'll present the case to a full board and then to Travers, as is the proper protocol?" Giles didn't mince words, nor was he cowed by the surroundings or proceedings.

"Not as of yet." A second figure said grimly. "There is certainly enough evidence here to show that Travers expressed sentiments for her removal. However- Mr. Pryce also voiced his feelings that she was unsuitable. You requested a different position, that is a matter of record."

"Is it?" Wesley gulped faintly.

"Of course he did." Giles said through clenched teeth. "Buffy _is _unsuitable, especially if you're a horrid little man who treats humans as though they were particularly intelligent dogs. No offense, Wesley."

"None taken." Wesley croaked hoarsely, an expression that would have curdled milk etched on his face. "I did think that, Sir. I hadn't interacted with her for more than a few months, and she is very headstrong. She is also an extraordinary fighter. A truly goodhearted girl. She does not deserve to be treated in this manner."

"She was offered a chance to come and be retrained. She refused."

"She doesn't need retraining, she can outperform anyone we have on staff." Giles rubbed his brow and sat in one of the empty chairs.

"She struck allegiances with a vampire. Two. And was a close associate of Faith Lehane, the other Slayer who is considered to be deranged, dangerous, and rogue- if and when she wakes up from her coma."

"Who Buffy is does not rest on who she associates with, any more than the fact that you have an ex-Watcher in your study makes you an 'unsuitably emotional' man who is likely to show fatherly affection to the Slayer entrusted to your care." Giles smiled frostily at Fallow.

Their "jury" exchanged glances, and Fallows continued after a moment. "We think this warrants further investigation. For one thing, we need an independent translator who speaks the branch of the Urdu dialect Mr. Travers and Mr. Wyndham-Pryce conversed in on one of the tapes in order to verify what was said. Secondly, we need to substantiate the ah- 'paper trail', that was supplied," he nodded to Ginny, "and lastly, we would like to interview Mr. Spears, who you claim spoke to the vampire Angelus."

"Angel." Giles and Wesley automatically corrected.

"Very well, _Angel_. I rang Spears last evening but he's yet to return my call. When he does, we'll very discreetly- what is it Bartlesby?"

A butler poked his head through the door after a gentle tap. "There's a call for you, Sir."

"I'll take it in here, thank you."

"Very good, Sir."

Fallows picked up the extension on his desk and connected to his caller. "Yes?" His countenance went from serious to surprised to deeply concerned. "I see. Yes, we'll be sure to. Was there any- no? I understand. I imagine that'll be taken care of by the end of the day. Thank you."

"Council business?" Giles asked with a sad, weary smile. He waited for the words he somehow knew were about to come.

"Yes. That was the Head of Surveillance. Spears shot himself last night. He hasn't left a note."

"I imagine you ought to call down to wet works." Abby smiled sardonically. "See if it's really what you think, or if old Spears had a little help."

"Aberswyth! That will be quite enough of remarks like that!"

"But it's so unpleasantly odd." Giles murmured. "Isn't it? I know of Spears."

"As do I. He's very loyal, he's very dedicated. He's been working to get out of general surveillance and into working with a potential." Wesley whispered. "Almost ruthlessly eager to do his job."

"As all of us should be." Fallows said sternly.

"Yes, Sir. But all of us didn't shoot ourselves after successfully completing a dangerous mission that would have earned glory and honor."

Fallows locked eyes with the sons of two of his most respected colleagues, one now gone, one now high ranking, a peer. "Any additional proof is welcome. We'll let you know of our decision in three days time. Wyndham- Pryce, you'll be the one we contact, as the Watcher on record."

Wesley nodded jerkily. "Of course, Sir."

"You seem to be expressing a great deal of certainty that attempts have been made on her life, more than just these tapes and these somewhat unusual requests of Mr. Travers' indicate. Mr. Giles, if you have any knowledge of her whereabouts-"

"I can honestly state, with my hand on any holy book," Giles smiled, thin lips, sad, serious eyes, "that I have no idea where she is. Nor do I know if at this moment, she's alive or dead." He swallowed painfully, wondering what had happened in the last few days, even hours, since they spoke, knowing she'd reached a new safe location, but wondering if anything ever was truly safe. "I hope with all my soul she is alive and well."

Fallows exchanged glances with the inquiring body surrounding him. Giles sat with his head down, the picture of a man quietly in control of great emotion. That didn't add up to the picture Travers had painted when he told of his dismissal. _Hm. Yet one more piece of evidence to consider. _

Fallows became brisk. "You will sign these affidavits and confidentiality agreements, stating your information is correct to the best of your knowledge and that you'll only speak to those present at this time regarding what was said here today." He offered a fountain pen to Wesley first, a challenge in his eyes. "Once signed- this is a matter of official, if sealed, record. It cannot be reversed."

"Excellent." Wesley said with far more confidence than he felt and signed his full name with a flourish. "Giles?"

"With pleasure." The graying man signed in a neat, bold hand. "I look forward to hearing from you soon."

* * *

"Collins here."

"Excellent. How did the Spears affair go?"

Collins had long ago learned not to apply reason to his orders. "Done. They should find the body soon."

"Excellent. Collins, have you ever been to America?"

"A few times, Sir."

"I'd like you to meet me at the airport this evening, after business hours, of course. Heathrow. I'm issuing a ten day leave to visit your ailing uncle in Oregon. You will leave your office immediately, to go home and pack."

"I see."

"You are an invaluable man, Collins. You know your place."

Thank you, Sir. I serve a purpose."

"And in doing what I will tell you when we meet, you will serve the greatest purpose yet." Travers folded a few papers and packed a variety of vials wrapped in cloth in a nondescript black satchel as he pressed the receiver to his ear. "This is off the record. A task for true men of vision."

Collins frowned slightly. "Danger?"

"Negligible."

"Target?"

"Not over the phone, Collins."

"Right."

"I'll be willing to pay you for your time, as this is unofficial business, yet serves a most necessary function to the Watchers, and to the world as a whole."

"That'd be most welcome, Sir." Collins dark eyes were always watchful, now they became more so, before quickly going blank again. One didn't question one's superiors.

Collins became Travers' new favorite person, inasmuch as he liked people to begin with, that is. Of course he should have gone to a human for this task before approaching a demon, even one so skilled as William the Bloody, or with so much at stake as Mephistopheles, or even ones so powerful as a clan of the sanguis venato. _Hmph. Demons. Inferior. _

"This remains undisclosed until I give the word. As for Spears- I'll handle the inquiries. You shouldn't be disturbed when your family so obviously needs you."

"Just as you say, Sir." Collins put his revolver away, and disposed of his latex gloves, methodically beginning to pack his "tools of the trade."

"Yes. _Exactly_ as I say." Travers hung up his phone and closed his eyes.

_Let them ask all the questions they want. Let her scramble and flee. _

_ She cannot be stopped, so they say. _

_ Good. For once, for this, I want her unstoppable._

* * *

To be continued...


	20. Chapter 20

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: I'm only going to tell you the time zone if it matters, otherwise just go with the flow. _

_Author's Second Note: Remember those short chapters I was warning you about? This is one. Sorry, but real life wins sometimes. I appreciate the kindness and encouragement so many of you have given me with this story, and for your patience. _

_Author's Third Note: Some of you are saying, "When will they admit they're in love already?" The answer is- not yet. I'm not trying to drag it out, but consider the situation- they've only been working together for two and a half weeks. They have to admit it to themselves before they'd say it to each other. I promise I deliver realizations, just not in a rush. Pieces come together slowly sometimes, and then all at once in others. Thank you so much for bearing with me!_

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, micmoc, Alottalove, Embers and Flames, Haleycc, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, SushiBar, Touch the Dark, ValidescopeWest, Rachel, Cavementftw, ammuna, marty powell, Sanity Fair, Hbmckidd, Seapea, Blade Redwind, Maire Ailbhe, Illusera, ShyL, mike13z50, and PeaceHeather._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XX**

_Day Nineteen..._

"There, you soddin' bastard! Take that!" Spike turned the knob on the door- which was finally up.

Buffy applauded weakly from the couch. "_Now_ can we go to sleep?"

"Just a minute, I wanna see if it passes the slam test." Spike jerked the door back.

"No!" Buffy shouted emphatically. "Enough adventures in Doorland! You're going to get burned in a minute." The sun was rising. They'd been up all night. And not in the fun way, Buffy's loins protested.

"One good slam." Spike insisted.

"You'll break it. _Again_."

"I told you, that was not breaking, that was simply- not properly installed." Spike sniffed haughtily.

"Fine. Slam the door. Pull the hinges off for a second time. Then straighten all the pin things a second time. Or better yet, maybe you'll really break it this time, and we can go down to the wood store-"

"Lumber store." He corrected, clenching his jaw.

"-and they can look at us 'city slicker summer people' like idiots from outer space, and we can do my favorite part- trying to get the door in the car- for _a second time!_"'

Spike shut the door softly and locked the double dead bolts he'd installed as well. "Still wanna strangle you a lot of the time." He snarled.

"And I still love the bones knit quickly feature in your face." Buffy grumped.

"Is this related to that- issue, you have today?" Spike raised one eyebrow. "Heard women get moody."

"That's beforehand." Buffy colored. "And I didn't have time to be moody, so you missed it."

"Right. You were always bitchy." He pressed along the jamb, not looking at her.

"I was not!" Buffy looked horribly offended. "I _am _not! I'm really nice!" He snorted. "I _am_! Just not to vamps with bad dye jobs who seriously think that a door can fit in the back of a Buick!"

_Ooooh._ If flames could shoot from eyes, Spike would have been able to toast marshmallows on her head. He whirled and snarled a second time as he bounded over the back of the couch, landing on it, crouched over her legs as she squeaked and went to pull them up. "Do I look like I do much property restoration, Slayer? No. I don't."

Buffy ignored the threatening posture, the glowering, and the granite edge in his voice, continuing blithely, "I think my favorite part was when the guy at the check out came out and offered you bungee straps and you said we'd already tried cliff diving, so no thanks." Buffy smiled unrepentantly up at him.

"Hm. I think _my _favorite part was when you hooked your straps on and you were so proud of yourself- right until you figured you have to shut the back door _first_. That was quite funny. Poor little perplexed Slayer. 'Spike, something's wrong with the car door now, too!'." He mimicked in a high falsetto. She had the grace to look mildly abashed.

"I think you driving into a headwind with the door slamming into the roof beats that." She countered.

"And you screaming, 'Stop the car! Stop the car!' for three miles straight tops _that_."

"Oh yeah? how about the big bad vampire, Mr. 'I Stole From Thousands of Stores and Never Got Caught' hiding behind the paper towel display when I turned down the last aisle to get my -"

"Foul! Foul, Slayer, that has nothin' to do with my light fingered abilities!" Spike put his hands over his ears.

"Yeah, but it has _everything_ to do with you looking like a wuss who's afraid of little purple boxes with butterflies on them." Even though she was probably going to die from having so much blood rushing to her head- and filling her cheeks- Spike squirming and looking genuinely freaked was totally worth it. _We'll call it a noble death._

"Go. To. Bed." Spike bounced off the couch and stood easily.

"Finally!" Buffy didn't have to be told twice.

They parted in the living room.

For a minute.

* * *

"Buffy?" Spike tapped hesitantly on the bedroom door.

She flung it open before his fingers left the wood.

They exchanged half-guilty smiles.

"Too sunny out there." Spike lied.

"Too empty in here." Buffy was honest.

"Mmm, let me make you a little less lonesome, Luv," he purred, hands sliding to her slender waist.

"Huh? No, we can't do that now." Buffy rebuffed him, although she did lean against him.

"We did before! When you didn't know." Spike pointed out, leaning in himself, kissing her neck.

"But now I do know."

"Bugger knowledge." He rumbled unhappily.

"I can't. You can't go in anyway. Remember the little butterfly box?" She looked at his shoulder, head shying from his gaze.

"They come out, don't they? Wait. Don't they?" Spike could feel his_ mother_ blushing, all the way from the nineteenth century.

"Of course they do!" Buffy blushed as well. "But- and this is the only thing I learned from driver's ed- 'cause they kept saying it when I hit traffic cones," she hastily burbled, " 'two objects cannot occupy the same physical space'. Which by the way, totally doesn't make any sense when everyone else is screaming in the backseat."

He wanted to push. Protest. Maybe test that theory. Occupying spaces, not screaming in the backseat. _Although, the Buick does have a pretty comfy place to lie down... No. Don't think like that. _Somehow, almost involuntarily, he found his thoughts and lusts evening out, not fading away, simply on hold.

It was odd.

_She'll give herself to you, if you just wait. She's that way. Used to the type of world and life that takes an' takes, but if you give her all you've got- she gives it back. Unlike a certain someone, who you gave everything to, and it was always a coin toss on what you'd get back. Dammit. Not supposed to think like that._

But what can you do when the evidence confronts you?

He gave her his patience, probably the last bit of it for the day, and a smile.

"Yeah? Wish you'd remember that rule when it comes to my nose an' your fist." He chuckled.

Buffy kissed him warmly, unexpectedly to both of them. "I'll try to remember, okay?"

"Good deal."

The exhausted couple returned to the bed, and lazily collapsed, half tangled.

"So... what are we supposed to do for however long you're gonna keep me in dry dock?" Spike sighed, absently snuggling her closer. "Sit on our hands?"

"I still think that'd be messy." Buffy yawned, and she felt rather than heard him laugh, his frame vibrating against hers.

"It means behave, Slayer."

"You, behave? Never."

"Me, behave. Sometimes." He reminded her with a small, harmless swat at her flank.

She sighed. "Same as we used to do. It's not like it's a - a habit."

"True." He conceded. Silence. Needed to be broken. "Takes three weeks to make a habit." He told her carelessly.

"O-kaay. And you know this how?" Buffy looked at him from under half closed eyes.

He looked back down at her, a quirked lip further enhancing the smile, the line of his cocky facade. " Ate a motivational speaker once. I was in one of his 'Quit Smoking Seminars'. Y'know. Lookin' for dinner?"

"Skip this part." Buffy winced. _Why am I lying against him? Why am I letting him touch me?_ She didn't move away though.

"Right. So he said it takes three weeks to make anything a habit. Start one. Or to stop one."

"We'll be out of here in a couple days." Buffy repeated something that had been said for nineteen days in a row. _Almost three weeks... Almost twenty one days. _"We'll do the same stuff we did before. You know. TV. Train. Walk in the woods. We can people watch- Willow and I would do it at the mall all the time. You try to make up a story about what they're doing, and three kids ought to be pretty funny. If you don't go all-" _No! Don't say anything that sounds like you're warning him, it makes him do the whole 'Drusilla had sisters' speech and I just want to cry. And kick Angel in the shins. Man, that's bad... _"If you don't go - without something to protect you from the sun."

"Nice save." He rolled his eyes behind slitted lids.

"Oh, snarking. I forgot the snarking. Lots of that." Buffy groaned.

"We can paint our nails. Go stir crazy."

"I wish we had stolen the chess set." _Never thought I'd say_ that.

"Me, too." _Stir crazy is what got us into this mess in the first place. _

_Yeah. Right. That's all. Been bored thousands of times before. Never shagged anyone over it._

Exhausted figures tried to sleep. And failed.

"Spike?"

"Sleep."

"You're talking in your sleep if you're sleeping."

"No," he replied through gritted teeth, "I meant 'sleep', as in you, go to, and shut up."

She ignored that, pressed hesitantly along, "Do you think with some people it takes less time for things to happen? Like habits?"

_For things to happen_. "Maybe. But that means it also takes less time to break the habits, too."

"Yeah. Probably."

He shifted restlessly. "But I think once it's three weeks, it's somethin' you have to work to rid yourself of. At least I think that's what the guy said. Don't remember much about him except he had a jerky sort of taste. All that smokin', I reckon."

"Oh. Oh, just- ew!" Buffy batted him with a pillow.

"Ow! I'm too tired for this, Slayer." Nonetheless, he took a swipe at her anyway.

It was goodnatured irritation, something they seemed to excel at, and even appreciate.

_This we did, from the beginning._ Even before the beginning, Spike thought as he looked down on her now, green eyes twinkling, neck thrust up, the edge of a fresh mark on her.

_I don't want to lose this._ "Hey, Slayer," he murmured, easing down slightly, feeling her tense, the playful eyes turn wary, "I was thinking-"

"No." Buffy bit her lip, and shook her head, legs closing slightly, "seriously, not a good idea to-"

"Not_ that_." He pushed on her shoulders and rolled his eyes again, wondering if his optic muscles could actually wear out for all he managed to use them lately. "I was gonna say- there's other stuff we can do."

"There is? What other stuff?" Her eyes challenged cautiously.

He shrugged. "Dunno."

"I don't either." Her head raised slightly, his drooped. Lips brushed. "I thought we only did that when- I mean, I thought that was only part of-"

"So did I." He shrugged again. "I can be wrong, you know that."

"I'm an_ expert_ in that."

Another kiss. Relaxation. Taut muscles smoothed, aching minds soothed.

"It doesn't all have to go away, does it? Some until someday... my someday isn't going to show up. All I get to do is go home. That's enough. I should be glad, 'cause that's enough, right?"

"Sure it is." One more drowsy kiss on the back of her neck as he spooned her close. "For some people."

"Some people."

"Maybe not people like us." He hugged her tighter, almost convulsively, hearing her ribs complain.

"Don't pull away." She whispered, fighting off sleep for one more minute.

"I'm not the kind."

"I don't leave." She blinked and this time her eyes stayed shut. _He left, not me. Spike didn't want to leave Drusilla. Does he want to leave me? It's not the same. Still. He will leave, when it's over. That's how it's supposed to be._

_No. She doesn't leave. But I'm gonna. Gotta get back. Gotta make her better. So she can be whole an' healthy an' mine._

He looked down at the girl in his arms.

_I was always Dru's. She was never truly mine. _

_ This one. This one could be mine. Could've been. If we saluted the same colors an' all that._

So why was he pressing his lips against her skin, a single word, a single question forming? "Buffy?"

"Hm?"

"I got you. Have your back. I could have- all of you. I mean, don't have to find someday right away. Could be-," he licked his lips, "that this truce goes on a bit longer?"

"Yeah..." A sleepy little sigh.

"Mine?" He offered. Everything in him screamed not to, screamed it was a betrayal he might unconsciously make, but to offer-

"Know." She smiled. _His. His whatever. I knew that. He told the shiny puppy to stay away. Belonged to the bigger badder dog... Mine._

He frowned. _No. Well. It wasn't like it was how it was supposed to go, anyway, was it? I'll get mine. An' who the hell bloody cares if she gets hers, right? _

Still he heard himself make a compromise, a compromise he was used to making, for he had never fully and truly owned someone else's heart. Never, in spite of the fact that he gave his away so easily, despite it being so hard to reclaim. "Fine. Mine until this is done?" He murmured hoarsely. _Say it. Say it, damn you, say you belong to me, even for another day, for as long as this ride goes on..._

"Duh." She locked her fingers in his as they rested on her warm abdomen. He couldn't help but smile. _I just said that. Never listens..._

"You're no poet, Luv."_ But I can't stay mad at you. Couldn't stay mad at _her _either, an' let's be honest, Blondie isn't the one who owes me anything permanent. _He sighed. _Oh too much the same, and yet so different. Bad at choosing._

_ Never had a choice before._

Even in the slumbering state, Buffy heard a challenge and Spike- her enemy, lover, friend- her mind gave up on the title, her _something-_ calling her in some way inferior. Or he was insulting her. _Not good. Fix it._

"Like Spike. Rhymes. So... poem. Shut up." She rolled heavily, and her small warm palm descended on his cheek, and her nose pressed his.

"Like Spike." He repeated softly as she let out a soft, deep breath that indicated she'd finally fallen properly asleep. It warmed his lips, and he looked at his temporary gift. A blessing and a curse, but his. No one else's either, not for a few more days, something he couldn't have truthfully said in the last year. A second sigh escaped him. "Fair enough."

* * *

"I believe we have just enough time for instructions- and no extra time for pointless questions." Travers' clipped, gravelly voice informed Collins as he met him in the VIP car park at the airport. He motioned him to the darker recesses behind the sleek black sedan, a place where they wouldn't be seen or overheard.

"Yes, Sir."

"Here are written directions to the location where you will find your target. There isn't a specific address, but the descriptions will work fine for a man of your background. There is a photo of her- and an old artists sketch of someone you may see with her. You do not approach them directly."

Collins would pull a trigger on anyone commanded. Not approaching directly, however, that overrode his silent obedience. "Then why am I on assignment, Sir? That's Surveillance, not -hrm- threat removal." He coughed discreetly.

"You've just paid a visit to Mr. Spears. Surveillance is no longer what I need." Travers reminded him with a steely glint in his eye. "You will not approach them directly, because the direct approach has left too many bodies in its wake. You are going to place these," Travers opened a black leather case lined with vials, "in her food. You will stay to ascertain her death, and you will report back. A simple task."

"Poison." Collins looked disgruntled, and his swarthy face, unused to expressing emotion, creased unpleasantly. "A granny method." He dared to voice his distaste.

"Not just poison." Travers also betrayed emotion, something he rarely did with his underlings, but his tensions were very near the surface these days. His intelligent eyes gleamed with hints of madness, but Collins was too busy following his finger from slim glass tube to slim glass tube to see it. "This is an absorption agent. It makes the concentration of foreign substances ten times more potent, as well as masking the taste of additives." He moved to another vial, one of a set, cloudy and gray. "These are a derivative of the poison from a Glargk Guhl Kashma'nik." Collins backed up a step, and Travers enjoyed the small rush of superiority gained by discomfiting the most unshakable in his ranks. "Use only one vial. It should take three or four days to work through her system. Begins to make her go slowly insane." He caressed it, and then looked up into Collins' dark eyes. "The second one is insurance. If in four days you don't have the desired result, you'll need to get the next dose into her."

"Understood."

"This last is bile from a fear demon." Collins raised an eyebrow. "No, not Gachnar, a truly fearful demon. I believe we collected this sample during the Reign of Terror in France, and we don't have much left. Just a few drops will be all you need. Don't use all of it." He looked at it thoughtfully. "It increases paranoia, a plaguing sensation, the desire to react, to panic... It should work for someone as unnaturally brave as the Slayer."

_Oh bother. _Travers realized his slip of the tongue too late. Of course Collins would have found out the second he opened the dossier, but he had intended him to be on the plane. Too far away to question, out of the realms of communication, too obedient not to follow through with orders that couldn't be rescinded.

Collins' strong hands immediately clenched, then tore open the dossier. A picture of the girl. Blonde and smiling, a high school photo. That didn't matter. Young, old, sweet, mean, he could kill them if they were of risk to the Council. _But the Slayer- the Slayer is the reason for the Council. _"Summers!"

He contorted his face into a mask of regretful gravity. "Yes. Summers." With deft fingers, he moved her photo aside to show a copy of a sketch of William the Bloody, cruel lines of violent satisfaction on his face, an open necked shirt and hair pulled back in a ponytail, a gory spike dangling in his hand. "You recognize her accomplice?"

"Sure he's not wearing that suit these days. Probably not the hair either, but hardly likely to forget the face of the Slayer of Slayers."

"Nor will you, as you may be indirectly responsible for his extermination." He made his voice mournful as he began his lie. "Summers has gone rogue. She's abandoned her post, her sacred duty, her calling. Her allegiance to this Council."

"I heard she-"

"She lives. In secret, in a remote location," he tapped the map on the other side of the folder, "with him. A vampire. A soulless, murdering vampire. A being of evil. She got the taste for vampires with Angel, or Angelus, as he should be called. Now she is consorting with this one. Sad. Very sad. But as long as she's alive and refusing to fight for us, we cannot call another Slayer. Thus, the inevitable." He nodded to Collins.

"But- Lehane. She's rogue as well, in league with demons. Isn't she-"

"She's neutralized. No, it has to be Summers. Summers has to die." He read the hesitation, the unwillingness, of one used to obedience to ask further questions. He spared him the necessity. "You see, I have intelligence that says they've begun working together. Can you imagine the Slayer's capacity for evil, once in league with William the Bloody? You have to stop her, Collins, stop her before she is no longer simply on the sidelines, but becomes an enemy of good, tainted by him." Travers rushed on, voice turning impassioned as he played up this moment. "It has to be indirect. What mortal could stand against a Slayer and a vampire combined? And who else could I entrust such a task to?"

Collins closed the portfolio of papers and photos with a soft snap. "It'll make her insane? Insane enough to do what? Do my job for me?"

Travers nodded, that mock regret upon his face again. "It's the only way not to endanger human life while destroying her."

"But- she's got this ally in the vampire. Won't he stop her? He must want her alive, or he'd have killed her by now. If any vampire could-"

"Yes, yes. But a Slayer is stronger than a demon. And the thing a Slayer should fear most is a vampire." Travers shut the case he held in his hand and tapped it meaningfully. "Whether he wants to stop her or assist her, it won't matter. Let the fear do its work and she'll kill him. Once insane and alone, she'll conclude this sad chapter in Council history."

"Say she doesn't? Then do I slip in?" He patted his shoulder, where a gun usually rested.

"No need, and better if you don't. The absorption agent and the fear additive will wear off, but the venom of the Glargk Guhl Kashma'nik, or as it's labeled, the GGK venom derivative, only increases its effectiveness the longer its in the system. Without an antidote, her nervous system will eventually overload and well, it isn't pretty, but the best term for it is 'explode'. It would take longer than four days. Maybe a week. I'd prefer not to wait however, and leave the world without a Slayer under Council orders for even longer. So do as you've been instructed and give her all three."

"Yes, Sir." Collins said without his usual alacrity.

Travers noticed it. He didn't give any outward sign though. "Perhaps you're wondering why I've decided to keep this off the record?"

"It crossed my mind."

"The time it would take to investigate and for a committee to be formed... I have executive privilege after all. I'm simply doing what's best for all the members of this Council. To hear they'd lost a Slayer, a _second_ one in a year, not to death, but to her own craven and dark impulses would be thoroughly demoralizing and disheartening. It _is _for the best."

"As you say, Sir."

Travers didn't like the faint reticence in his tone, even after that heartwarming explanation. He became brisk once more. "Don't call me until it's finished, Collins. That's all then. Safe travels. Money for expenses is in your account, there's some American currency behind the map. Oh, and Collins?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Do be most awfully careful with the GGK substance. I didn't procur an antidote."

Collins nodded, usual swiftness returned. _This is dead serious. And more dangerous than ever. _"I'll call you when it's done."

"Good man."

* * *

"Now boarding British Airways Flight 891, London to Chicago."

"That's the last proper _Times_ I'll get to read in ages." Giles groaned and put down his paper on one of the small tables in the terminal.

"My mother will be furious when she finds out I was home and didn't see her." Wesley muttered.

"Sad little heroes, aren't we?" Giles looked around once more and walked to the boarding line.

* * *

_Thirty Minutes Later..._

"British Airways Flight 466 to New York City with a connecting flight to Portland, is pre-boarding passengers with children."

Collins finished his tea. "Last proper cup for a week or two." He got in the queue, and when the gate attendant frowned at him, for his lack of a child in tow, he flashed her a small concealed card. She frowned once and then smiled brightly. "Welcome aboard, Sir. Have a pleasant flight."

"I will." Collins sat in a first class seat, with an empty seat beside him, and began studying the papers he'd been given. _It's when we land that the unpleasantness begins..._

* * *

_To be continued... _


	21. Chapter 21

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Some smuttiness! Also, the lyrics of Fleetwood Mac's "The Chain" are quoted in this chapter._

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, micmoc,Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, SushiBar, Touch the Dark, ValidescopeWest, Rachel, Cavementftw, ammuna, marty powell, Sanity Fair, Seapea, Blade Redwind, Maire Ailbhe, Illusera, ShyL, mike13z50, PeaceHeather, and SarahlovesA. _

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XXI**

_Day Twenty..._

"I'm back, I'm safe, what happened to you?" Giles didn't even stop at his own place to shower and shave, though he did allow the cabbie to slow down to about five miles per hour in order to allow Wesley to stumble out in front of his flat.

"Giles! Giles! It's Giles!" Buffy shouted excitedly.

Spike huffily turned down the television. "Well about bloody time. Tell him to hurry up or we'll never find out if Sofia accepts the bank robber's proposal."

"Shut up."

"Bank robbers? Sofia?" Giles demanded.

"Soap operas. It was either that or _Barney_. Or fifteen easy steps to improve my fishing lure tying skills."

Utterly flabbergasted, Giles could only make a puzzled start to his sentence. "I..."

"We don't have cable, but that's not the point! What did they say? Are we in the clear, and are they going to lock up Travers? In a hell dimension? And are you okay, did they freak, did they threaten to take you to Watcher jail?" She paused for breath- and a smidge of extra compassion. "Oh. Yeah. Is Wesley alive?"

Giles rubbed his head. "I have jet lag, Buffy. Only one question at a time."

"Right, so are we-"

"Me first, this time." The stubbled and somewhat bleary eyed Watcher insisted. "Your mother said you were attacked and you were fine. That's like reading a book with all the pages torn out between the first and the last, Buffy."

Buffy's voice lowered. "Is my Mom standing right there?"

"Erm. Yes."

"Tell her to go away. Say you need coffee or something."

"I do, actually. Joyce, could I trouble you for a cup of- oh thank you, most kind."

"Bloody hell." Spike sank back on the couch and put the open dictionary over his wearily closing eyes. "Wake me when it's over, Slayer."

"I see you and Spike must have continued to put aside your differences." Giles mumbled, looking furtively behind him to make sure Joyce wasn't around.

"Yeah. No. I mean, sometimes. We had a big argument yesterday, but... yeah." Buffy stammered in a guilty rush. From under the book, one bright blue eye gave her a scoffing glance. She kicked his ankle. "Let's leave it at 'sometimes'."

"He _is_ protecting you? That is, you don't need 'protection' -"

_'Cause vampires can't knock you up_, Buffy thought, completely inappropriately, a little insane giggle fighting to be released.

"-I suppose I should've said, is he 'assisting' you."

"He has my back, Giles. Totally. He's um-" s_o amazing when he fights for me. I mean, fights. Just fights_, "-really good at this. Totally has my back." She repeated, risking a glance at him. She saw a hugely pleased smirk just before he retreated back under the cover of the book.

"I have something he desperately wants, thank goodness." Giles sighed thankfully.

_Hey. He does it for me._ Buffy fought down the silly pang of jealousy. "Yep. Working hard for that Mirrored Eye deal."

"Menfra's- oh never mind! Your mother is clinking china around, so we haven't got much time. What happened?"

"It was really cloudy, and the power was out. No, it had come back on. No, I don't remember if they came when it was on or off, but Spike went out to the car to get something and-"

In exasperation, he hissed,"Quickly! The type, the description, how many, what ploy did they use, the outcome. Go."

"You're turning into a Wesley." Buffy muttered petulantly.

"Perish the thought. Though, oddly enough, he's- Buffy! Concentrate!"

Giles' frustrated cry reached Spike's ears and his book-muffled voice chimed in, "Not bloody likely, Watcher."

"Tell me, _please_. I've been worried sick."

"That's my Watcher." Buffy cooed, secretly very comforted just to hear his voice and his "researchiness" and kindness kicking in. "Okay, first, they were huge. And stakes did _not_ work! Oh, and they could make walls of blue fire and they would just _stay_ there. But when we killed them, the fire went away. Right away, poof, but still, not before someone totally saw them and we were in bed and this ranger-"

"Buffy!" Both men in her life hissed, for very different reasons, Giles wanting her to focus, Spike warning her not to slip the hell up.

"Right, no big deal." Buffy put her head briefly in her palm. "They had this disgusting crackly, gross skin and these weird eyes and- just ick. Giles, why do all demons have to be so icky?"

"Oi!"

"Oh, not like vampires." Buffy hastily placated.

"What?" Giles gaped.

"I mean- the human part, I mean, these things were really, really disgusting. Um. Would you like to speak to the resident demon about them? You know, get the insider perspective?" Before he could answer, Buffy shoved the phone against Spike's ear.

"Hey!"

"Be right back!" She prepared to scoot off the couch.

"Slayer, you can't-"

"Girl emergency." Buffy lied.

Spike cocked his head at her suspiciously, and she guiltily sat down. "This is the resident expert. How was merry old England? Did you stick it to the bastard?"

"Hello, lovely, and we tried." Giles sighed. "Report, please?"

"Five of 'em. A leader, four lackeys, from a hell dimension, I'm pretty sure. They don't go up in the sun, they don't care about a sharp stick to the heart, but they sure as hell don't like water. Puts out the fire in 'em, which by the way, I mean literally. You know those cheesy little flare papers magicians stick on their fingertips? They had 'em built in."

"How did they find you?" Giles put his head in his hands. Joyce put the coffee down beside him and pulled up a chair. "Joyce, this really isn't-"

"She's my child. I'm _not _budging."

"Right. Hrm. Well, ah- how did they come to find you?"

Spike spoke in a softer voice, urging Buffy to take the phone with a snap of his fingers and waving her towards him as he concluded, "They track blood. Someone set 'em on her. They don't much care for humans though, went off a bit about how demons were the beverage of choice and they wanted to go home, all that. Here. Buffy'll talk to you about the rest."

Joyce, trying to overhear, and getting annoyed that Giles seemed to be deliberately moving away from her as she leaned forward, thought she vaguely recognized the snippets of voice she could hear. She just couldn't put a name or face to it, but she had a feeling she'd heard the voice before. "Let me talk to her." Joyce insisted.

"Joyce, please-"

"Mom, hang on-"

"Now listen to me, both of you!"

"How'd I end up in the middle of this?" Spike retreated back into his papery refuge.

* * *

_A short time (and several interruptions) later..._

"They sound like something I read about years ago. Merely a footnote, as they don't usually concern themselves in human realms. They prefer demon blood, mentioned as in some way related to the demonic presences found in vampires. Sanguis, Sanguine, Sang... something to do with blood."

"Yeah, yeah, blood suckers, they have a thing for me." Buffy groaned. Spike peeped out from under the cover long enough to risk a wink- and catch her blushing. "We made them go poof. Not so much 'poof' as 'dissolve in a gritty, inky, hard to get out of jeans way'." Buffy concluded blithely.

"Yes, thank God." Giles sighed.

"How'd they find me anyway?" Buffy asked moodily.

"That's a very good question."

"Blood. Leavin' a trail." Spike contributed.

"Are you injured?"

"No! Just little scrapes and stuff." Buffy shrugged.

"That'd be enough for certain kinds of demons. 'Specially Slayer blood. Slayer blood is-" He trailed off, fighting to keep both the poetic and demonic elements in his nature under wraps before he could rhapsodize or vamp. "It's the good stuff. Potent."

Buffy reflexively scooted away. "Great. I'm not only fated to die young but I'm also the equivalent of a gym sock."

Spike launched himself off the couch. "I'm out." He passed behind her- paused, and licked her neck swiftly, before she could stop him, sense him, a harsh swipe against her pulse. "Champagne. Best in the house." He breathed and left the room, walking slightly stiff-legged, just from a single taste.

"Buffy. Buffy?"

"Huh? I'm here!" Buffy watched him go, a fingertip now resting lightly where his tongue had traced roughly and quickly over her skin. _So primitive, so animal. Mildly disgusting, since he also was tasting me like sneaking icing off the top of a cake._

_ He needs to do that again. _

"You may not have seen the last of them. And I imagine, with such formidable foes, you may have been injured?"

"Yeah. Spike almost died. Buy one, get one style, fiery death and decapitation special." Buffy's eyes drifted down the hall, following invisible footprints of the man who helped save her life, or at least protect it, three times in under three weeks. _Damn, talk about a team player. Not for a team, for me. Partners._

"You, Buffy, were _you_ hurt?"

"Some, yeah. But I'm not worried about that, Giles."

"I am. They can hunt you and create a trail from a single drop of blood. They can come after you at any time!"

"They won't if they're smart. I sent a message._ I'm_ the Slayer. This is _my_ power. Travers can't have it."

"I agree, Buffy, but you're not invincible. All Slayers do eventually die." _Before their Watchers, ninety nine times out of a hundred. She can't die. I can't live through it._

"Maybe they were afraid to live with the Slayer inside." Buffy countered snappishly, even though she knew he was right.

Down the hall, in the doorway that was still open, Spike felt that rush of pride, of power by osmosis. Even if he hated half the things she did and said- he loved the other half. _She's the real thing._

_ I keep sayin' that..._ He pushed the thought from his mind, to busy eavesdropping to wonder what that meant exactly, and continued to listen, to hear her half of conversation.

Giles was flummoxed for a moment. "Buffy, this is not the time to discuss metaphysical states of being. Afraid of your power, possessed of it or not, you are a mortal and can die, and these beings are not of world and hardly your typical... adversary." Giles' speech slowed.

"Ooh, I know that voice. Mom, did he just take his glasses off?" She raised her voice at the end so her mother could hear her question.

He had indeed, looking raptly into the distance. "There are very few people able to call up one demon, let alone five terribly rare and powerful ones, and then to control them! Travers may be many things, but he has never seemed well versed in the dark branches of magic."

"You sure about that?" Buffy asked dubiously.

"In spite of his recent actions, yes, I'm fairly sure. However- there are a few texts in existence that contain spells of great power, spells to bind evil and evil things to do your will."

"I'm not liking the creepy mystical voice, Giles, can you revert back to 'Buffy failed high school English' language please?"

"You_ failed_?" Joyce screeched.

"Um. Not now, Mom, Giles is talking." Buffy added another thing to her list of "If I survive this, I will die from fill-in-the-blank."

"It was a C- minus, and I believe with that paper Willow handed in for you while you had the flu, it averaged out to a solid C." Giles quelled both females. "My point was, there are rare texts that are in existence which would give anyone who can read them the ability to control the demons hunting you. One book in particular I can think of, the - the latin is a bit obscure, but it translates out to _The Book of Summonings, for Those Past the Gates of Hell_."

"Catchy title." Buffy paled and she knew instinctively that her mother was doing the same.

"We've worked hard to destroy books like that, Buffy. They're too dangerous to have in the world. However," he sighed heavily, "there's always the idea that one should have knowledge of what one is trying to fight, so-"

"So? Why is there always a so?" Buffy moaned.

"The Watchers' Council Library has a copy. At least they did when I was there." Giles rubbed his rapidly lining brow.

"We know it was Travers." Buffy didn't see the huge deal.

"I know that. The rest of the Council doesn't. Oh they believe something is off, and they're doing their own bit of investigation. But_ this_- if the Council library is missing that book, that heavily guarded book which only Travers, the Head Librarian, and the Head of the Academy have access to- it is very powerful evidence indeed."

"Can you call the librarian and have them look to see if it's missing?"

"Not the librarian, per se, but a trusted friend. If it's gone, and it hasn't been withdrawn through the proper channels- it's another nail in his coffin, a nail that isn't hearsay or conjecture. It does mean stating that you're alive. That you survived an attack from them. That you contacted me."

"That's going to put you at risk!" Buffy shook her head angrily. "Big time risk! They'll be after you for real, not just poking around your apartment while you're out."

"And aren't you just as much at risk? Knowing he could call up horde after horde of the worst hell creatures imaginable? I don't think he'd do anything on a grand scale, but enough to kill you, certainly."

"I'm already in danger!"

"As am I. As are we _all_. Until it's done. You can hide, but if these things can trace you..."

"I'm still hiding. I'm done running." Buffy whispered. _Someday soon, I'm going to be done hiding too. This isn't what Slayers do. I am the Slayer. I _am. "They know I'm alive. That magic seeker thing proved it, no one's been called to take my place. You don't know where I am, and if Travers sends anyone else after me... we can take 'em." She said bravely.

He swallowed. "I _will_ bring you _home._" Giles whispered in a constricted voice, turning away from his audience of one.

"Duh. That's totally your job." She smiled so the tears would stay in. "Tell them what you have to. Say I called from a pay phone, say whatever you have to. Tell them I'm pissed and the demons told me it was Travers. So did the vampire, according to- yeah, so did the vampire."

"I may not need to say all that yet. I'll have someone lay the groundwork with the book in conjecture." He became brisk. "Very well then. I'm quite exhausted and-"

"What about your trip? You owe me details, I just dished!"

"Dish, as you call it, more, but to your mother. I need a lie down. And a safe place to call an old friend."

* * *

"Hello?" Robson answered the phone tentatively, half-expecting to hear the voice of doom in his ear, Fallows' cold stentorian tones telling him he was about to be excommunicated from the sanctum of his profession.

"It's me."

"What's wrong?"

"Listen, I'll be quick and keep it short, you can say I was a wrong number and rang off if anyone starts poking about in your affairs. The _Book of Summonings-_ the big one, the worst one, you know the one-"

"_The _one."

"Yes. She was attacked by the sanguis the- oh dash it, you know the name, the full demons, predecessor of vampires, the blood drinkers, the blood hunters-"

"Bugger the name, is she alright?"

"She is, by the grace of God and an undead street hooligan." Giles was back at the corner pay phone of his infrequently visited pub, muffling spell hovering about him.

"Come again?"

"See if the book is missing. See if he has it."

"I doubt he checked it out!"

"As do I. It's used maybe once a year, for those about to join ranks, one quick glimpse of what exists beyond the normal realms of evil to make us all less frightened of mere vampires." His eyes darted around once again. "If it's there, let me know. And if it isn't-"

"I'll let you, _and _Fallows will know as well."

* * *

_Day Twenty One ..._

"That is a highly unusual book to go missing. Thank you, Robson, I'll add it to the list of things we're looking into." Fallows hung up his phone and turned to his quartet of colleagues who were still present with him, long term guests of his estate while they sorted a few things out.

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything." One protested, hearing about the loss of the highly dangerous volume.

"No... What does concern me, gentlemen, is the abrupt departure of Collins from- hm- threat removal."

"That's nothing strange! I talked to Emmet about that myself this morning, when I was trying to nose around about Spears. By the way- nothing suspicious."

"If Collins or one of his underlings carried it out, there wouldn't be. That's why we retain them and how we trained them, Newcomb."

Newcomb waved a hand dismissively. "It still remains a coincidence. The man has a dying uncle in the States! Surely a man can visit a sick relative. He's never taken any time off."

"That's what concerns me." Fallows sat down. "We are the elite. We don't necessarily mix with the 'worker bees' like we did when we were young, getting our hands dirty, training our potentials, letting them go after they turned twenty six, never one making it to that 'Chosen' state..."

"Don't flannel on, Harold, get to the point."

"I worked with Collins' senior, before he hrm- switched departments. I remember when they were expecting their second child. He said how glad he and his wife were, because both of them knew the loneliness of being an only child."

The room was silent for a mere second. "I doubt Emmet was concerned about the details of Collins' request. Uncle, great uncle, a family friend he considers an uncle, it hardly matters." Newcomb argued.

"I think it matters." Harbin, the youngest of this small and curious section of the board, pulled a fax out of the office's creaking and beeping machine. "It's a bit blurred, I'll take a look. Fallows, honestly, that fax was made fifteen years ago, get something new, there is no glory in old electronics, they aren't like fine furniture."

"Critique my business tools later, Harbin, what does it say?"

"It's from that secretary. The soon to be Mrs. Robson. We might want to move her from the secretary position and into something more useful, gentlemen." He held out several sheets of paper. "Fifteen thousand pounds went into Mr. Collins' account two days ago."

"Perhaps the dying relative cleared up part of his inheritance early."

"Possible. But," Harbin flipped to the second page, "Travers' private discretionary account has also dropped about eighteen thousand pounds in the last two and half weeks."

"Right around the time he requested Willets to search for her..."

"Fifteen thousand went two days ago." Harbin ran a finger down the ledger.

"Now, seriously, I do think that's a bit beyond the pale, hacking into a man's personal account! All Heads of Council have always had that discretionary fund, and no one ever needed to question Travers' spending habits before."

"That's right. That's why he assumed it would be safe, no one ever needed to examine his habits before. Look, he hasn't moved more than a few hundred pounds out per year in the last three years. Now, all at once- thousands? If I could get in touch with the bank itself, I could see where it went to precisely. All the secretary could do was show us some statements. She's rather overstepped her bounds there." Harbin paused, admiringly. "What do you think, Surveillance? Or perhaps Research?"

"Let us leave her career prospects for the time being." Fallows looked at the grandfather clock in the corner of his office. "That linguist should be here within the hour. I have the tape ready for him. After that, well-"

"Gentlemen, I put it to a vote. Do we call a full meeting of the Council Board? Minus Travers?"

"That'll alarm him no end!"

"If he's innocent he shouldn't have reason to be alarmed. And at any rate the Council is largely in unquestioning support of him. It'll be our job to sway them. We are the Davids. He is the Goliath here."

"Terribly Old Testament of you, old man, but we're risking ridicule and an end to careers, family tradition, family shame..."

"Would you rather live in blissful ignorance while he hunts down an innocent girl- for some unknown, undiscussed reason that should at the very least have been mentioned in a memo?"

Sighs all around.

"If the linguist confirms Pryce's story- we call the meeting?" No one spoke. He persisted. "Those in favor?"

All hands, some more slowly than others, were raised.

* * *

"Didn't we just get groceries? Why is there nothing but milk and bread? And eggs?"

"I don't know, you carried 'em in." Spike shrugged.

"I carried in the one bag, the bag you were scared to touch." Buffy shut the fridge, pulling the milk out.

"Not scared! Just not my things..." He replied uncomfortably. "And why are we up so early? It's not even ten." They'd tacitly resumed their combined, semi-nocturnal schedule, so that they spent most of their waking moments with some company.

"Because I'm hungry! I'm always uber hungry during this... yeah. I'm starving. So where'd you put them?"

"Put what?"

"The rest of the groceries! I've got bread with nothing to put on it and milk with no cereal and a complete lack of Pringles."

"Oh, that's right. My cigs and my beef jerky." Spike suddenly seemed interested.

"Yeah, that." Buffy rolled her eyes. "Seriously, where'd you put them."

"I didn't! I got out of the car and got the ruddy door, I left the bags on top of the trunk for you. 'Specially the one bag. With the- lady things in it." He coughed and frowned at the pattern on the wooden walls as if it were supremely engaging.

"I got the roof straps and two of the bags, including the bag of with the cooties." She waggled her fingers at him with a look of exasperation, then stormed past him, not caring if he jumped a little as she opened the front door.

"Oi!"

"They're probably still by the car if neither of us carried them in." Buffy called over her shoulder.

In three seconds, he was behind her, wrapped in his coat and cursing as he talked about how far into the clearing he'd parked, and how far it was from the house, all a matter of not being seen- and the fact that her wandering off was going to get her killed.

"I'm not 'wandering off', I'm getting breakfast! And you did so carry in one of the bags, I know I saw you , and it looked like- ooh."

"Bloody hell." Spike groaned. They both drew up abruptly at the side of the car. Paper bag remains trailed off into the woods, along with wrappers, boxes, and jars.

"Oh no!" Buffy gasped, looking at the remains of their hour plus trek into town.

"Probably raccoons." Spike peered into the dense trees.

"First they think we started fires, now littering. I can bet Smoky the Bear is using my picture as a dartboard..." Buffy started picking up the trash.

Spike stared at the trash strewn ground for a few seconds before exclaiming, "Oi! My cigs are gone, too!" He ran a few paces in, letting his coat slide down to his shoulders once he was in the shade of the trees. He picked up a chewed open, empty box. "Little bastards!"

"Oh yes, that's very important. The dead guy can't smoke." Buffy muttered.

"Found some of the packs!" He ignored her, jubilantly finding several packs scattered in the immediate area.

"Spike! There's some little woodland creature out here who's going to get addicted to non-filtered menthols and it'll be all your fault!" She threw a chewed through half cleaned out jar of of peanut butter at his head and it bounced off.

"Ow. Nice shot." He turned and growled, then smiled. "Stop whinin', we'll get more stuff for you. Have the rangers fetch it up here by tomorrow, or we can run down to town tonight."

Buffy sighed and gingerly picked up an empty Pringles can that was shredded at the top. "Can you get rabies from touching raccoon spit?"

"Maybe if the raccoon had rabies?" He tossed two packs away, they were damp from being on the wet forest floor all night.

"That's so not helpful." Buffy scooped things into the remains of a bag.

"Steaks!" Spike cried suddenly, looking around at the grocery wreckage and realizing something was missing.

"I have one! Who is it? Where are they?" Buffy pulled a stake from her waistband and crouched down at the side of the car.

"No,_ steaks_! Meat sort, not wooden sort. I _did_ carry in a bag, it had steaks in it. Remember? I said I was tired of catching all my meals on the hoof, and even though that sad excuse for a market didn't have a proper butcher, I wanted steaks. Put 'em in the fridge with the milk."

"Your point?" Buffy just stared as she tucked the stake away.

"I'll share." Honestly, what did she _think_ the point was? Fluff for brains, that one.

She paused in the midst of her trash collecting. "For a guy who's probably going to give squirrels nicotine poisoning, you're pretty nice."

He beamed. "Pop down to the rangers' later and place an order. They'll deliver. Remember? We're on our 'honeymoon'."

She blushed at that accidental answer, blushed harder because they'd both said it so automatically. Together. "We can run to town, it's far but it's not like-"

"You may have called out the bastard, but it's still not nice to send up red flags, okay? Once a week is enough public appearances for you, Slayer."_ All my heart can stand. _They fell into step walking back to the house.

"But I'm bored. And hungry." She whined.

"So I'll cook."

"You know how to cook?"

"It's steak. Take beef, add fire, how hard could that be?" He shrugged easily.

Buffy suddenly lost her appetite. "You know, on second thought-"

"Slayer..." He gave her a "don't you start" look.

"No, wait- I have eggs and bread and milk- ooh, French toast."

"You don't trust my cooking?"

"I don't trust you around fire."

"I was pretty good in front of the fireplace the other night, wasn't I?"

_Oh hell yeah, he was. How can he make me so crazy and so happy? How can it start to be overlapping into just this sort of general... crazy about him, happy with him thing? I'm not crazy about him. I'm... I'm..._ "I'm going nuts waiting around up here for Travers to make a move or for the Council to fire him!" She dropped the trash again and balled her fists in frustration. Hey eyed her apprehensively and she let out a long sigh. "Sorry. Wanna go for a walk?"

"Now?" He looked at the sun through the trees.

"A drive?"

"You drivin'? No."

"Spike!"

"Get in the car."

"Okay, Mr. Mood Swing, I'll go get the phone and my purse and m-"

"No, just get in the car." He took her by the elbow and turned her. "Front seat, Slayer, don't get any ideas." He opened the door, taking the keys from his pocket and turning on the car, but not starting it.

"What are we doing?" She asked, scooting in next to him.

"Makin' ourselves crazy in a different location."

* * *

They turned the radio on, and left the seat belts off, sliding closer and closer as the songs went on, just listening, just talking, about music and stupid commercials, and the lack of quality reception.

"We used to do this. Before we had the telly. You know? Go to operas and clubs and concerts. Then radio came along. Still preferred the clubs and the concerts."

"Well, yeah, you can't eat someone through the radio." Buffy giggled lazily, hunger temporarily forgotten, sitting in the dim car, still somehow warm from the sun filtering through.

"Hardee har har." He elbowed her lightly. "But you got a point."

"You're kinda cool. For a vampire. You talk about things you did, not just people you ate." _Unlike certain evil people. Or non-evil yet majorly broody people. _Buffy sighed and let her head rest on his shoulder. His arm came around her waist and pulled her closer.

"I didn't become a vampire to eat people. I did it- to be something better. I thought."

She looked up at him. "You _thought_?"

_I knew. Back then. Damn confusin' bint._ "Without someone in your life, immortality lacks the sparkle, Cutie." He said gruffly. He hadn't touched her too much lately, not in the last day. Now he let his hand touch her chest, then her stomach. She didn't pull away.

"Wanna know a secret?" Buffy enjoyed the weight of his palm against her achey insides.

"Sure." His eyebrows raised involuntarily.

"Regular mortality sucks without someone in your life, too." She blinked a streak of blonde hair out of her eyes.

"You still have a chance." He muttered.

"So do you! And I don't. Not with him."

"I dunno, Slayer." _Who do you take chances with? What chances do you take?_

"I don't know either." She hesitantly let her hand connect with his on her side. Traced his fingertips with hers. All of his hand with hers. She never touched him like that, just to touch him, to show him... whatever this was.

He hissed quietly. Even her hands, so warm and so dextrous, did things to him. He rested his lips to her hair. Then the curve of her ear. His hand moved down slowly. Her legs pulled up, scrunched into the seat, her back to his chest.

"Wanna find a different station?" Buffy whispered, letting her hand flow down with his, no longer sure she was in control of herself. Slayer side gone, normal side gone, all one big feeling of completion- and missing a part at the center. When she was close to him, the nagging sensation that she was "missing something" went away.

"I like the station. I like listening to this. Reminds of when I did things, not just waited for things to happen." _Dru to forgive me, Angel to leave, enemies to attack, trinkets to be delivered. Back when I was the one who called the shots._

"You're making this happen." Buffy whispered, and tipped her head back.

"No, _we_ make this happen." He looked down at her.

"Half of the action is better than none."

She was wrong. Being half of the action was the best of all. Being alone meant there _was_ no action. Not of the fun kind, anyway. "All I ever wanted was to be half. Wanted all of the other, and give 'em all right back. Wasn't meant to be alone."

"Neither was I. You think for all the time you're growing up that you'll be a girlfriend. Maybe a long, looong time in the future you'll even be a wife. You never think to yourself, 'Ooh, maybe today I'll wake up with a destiny and be chosen to live a life of scary monsters, being alone, and premature death'."

He shifted and said brusquely, "You're not gonna die prematurely, Slayer. I won't let you." He grumbled to mask the sincerity of his words. "One of us oughta get what we were hopin' for."

His hand had stopped moving resting on her zip, her fingers over top of his. Eyes had stopped connecting, and now were back together._ He's not joking. He means it. _

_ I love that._

"Turn the radio up." She half turned, twisted, arm coming around his neck as his dragged her up to smother her in a kiss._ Whatever we're doing, I don't want to think about it. I just want to do it._ The familiar hum of her rising pulse beat double time to the ballad crackling out.

_Listen to the wind blow_

_Watch the sun rise_

_Run in the shadows_

_Damn your love_

_Damn your lies_

"Thought you said-"

"I did, but this isn't anything serious."_ I mean physically serious. Just making out. In a car. Half the high schoolers in America do this every weekend. _

"Right."

Eyes locked again, before they both shut them to the truth.

* * *

_And if_

_You don't love me now_

_You will never love me again_

_I can still hear you saying_

_You would never break the chain_

Hands were still fumbling together, between her legs as the kisses became more breathless, more desperate.

_I'm not supposed to do this, I'm not supposed to do this ever, but really not now._

_ Not inside, just outside, just make her cum for me, and scream for me, and she'll learn to come _to _me._

"You don't have to open up." He bit her lobe softly as he whispered in it. "This isn't about being in your hot little box. It's about bein' in your pretty little head."

"You already know me way too well." She protested, and left the pull of her zipper alone.

"Keep your enemies close- and your lovers closer."

"That sounds wrong."

He looked at her with a sad smile in his eyes.

"Oh. Yeah."

* * *

_Listen to the wind blow_

_Down comes the night_

_Run in the shadows_

_Damn your love_

_Damn your lies_

He worked against her, and she against him. His kneading fingers strong enough to bunch the fabric to a sodden mass and make her feel as if his bare skin was on hers. Rubbing, pulling, forcing her to rock against him in self preservation as instincts took over and her stiff fingers ripped open his belt buckle.

* * *

_Break the silence_

_Damn the dark_

_Damn the light_

"Slayer..."

"Spike."

Rough wet fabric to him and he groaned. His fingers dug into her ass to pull her hard, the wettest "dry" sex he'd ever had. She was just so juicy. So wet and hot and - he could smell blood and lust, and for once it didn't turn into blood lust. "I bet you look beautiful in red." He whispered and did the unthinkable, hand down her trousers, to her wet panties, making her gasp, a mixture of shock and shame. And want. "I won't." He whispered. He felt her shiver and strain. "But I like knowing you want me to."

She pushed him back hard to the driver's seat, making his skull bounce against the head rest and her cheeks caught the steering wheel, letting out one sharp honk in the silent forest. "Don't be a jerk. I'm trusting you. I'm- I'm-" _I'm loving you._

"I was showing you can trust me too. I don't just have your back anymore, Baby. I have your front." He kissed the apex of her throat. "I have your secrets." _I could've had your heart, maybe I can borrow it..._

"You have a funny way of showing it." But she released him, and they ground together again, hands now working away alongside the friction of fabric to his rod.

"Only ever loved one woman in a century. Maybe I'm too old to learn new tricks."

* * *

_And if_

_You don't love me now_

_You will never love me again_

_I can still hear you saying_

_You would never break the chain._

"You never give up. I saw you. You can do anything."

"Maybe you inspire me."

"Maybe it's a two-way street." She leaned down and captured his mouth as he rutted against her, up her thigh, leaving a slick, wet trail, not unlike the trail she was leaving inside.

"Buffy..." A little rasp of pleading under all the lust.

"Radio off." She followed her own advice. His hand fell. Hers didn't. "I don't know what we're doing. But maybe we could go do the rest of it inside?"

"Sure." He said eagerly, in surprise.

"Not all the way. Just some."

"Until someday." He finished the by now familiar rejoinder. _It's startin' to sound hollow. _

But neither of them said that.

_Or maybe it just won't ring true anymore._ He took her hand and she clung right to his arm. _I don't know what's true anymore._

_Damn your love._

_Damn your lies._

* * *

To be continued...


	22. Chapter 22

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Some smuttiness! Also "vampiric" sexual content. Skim if you gotta._

_Author's Second Note: Picks up from the end of the previous chapter. Might go well reading back to back._

_Author's Third Note: The pace (of the story, not posting, sadly) is going to pick up after this chapter, folks. Thank you for plodding through the thought process to the action. _

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, micmoc,Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, SushiBar, Touch the Dark, ValidescopeWest, Rachel, Alottalove, Cavementftw, ammuna, marty powell, Sanity Fair, Seapea,Maire Ailbhe, Illusera, ShyL, mike13z50, and SarahlovesA. _

_Thank you so much for the continued readership and support! _

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XXII**

_Day Twenty One, early afternoon..._

Two figures, one wearing a little scrap of pink at the waist, rolled on the bed. Fingers manipulated her and an ivory mouth worked her tender peaks. Finding that they were extra sensitive, he proved he could be gentle as well as rough. She came and went to repay him, mouth and hand combining on him before he could even gasp "How do you want it?"

"Good warm up, Baby." Spike watched her bobbing on him, and sighed in deep contentment.

"Wam upf?" Buffy lifted her head and repeated, "Warm up?" with her mouth empty this time.

His face turned serious, voice softer, reaching for her shoulder, tapping her, letting her know he wanted her closer. "Don't you want me to?" Blinked. _Sounded wrong. Try it again. _"Don't you want_ us_ to?"

That recently discovered "don't back down" instinct cried _yes, yes, yes_,- and still found a note of "wait". It was one thing to embrace your power, another thing to go blindly into something that made you sweat lust and nervousness and that you couldn't erase the memory of.

"You're hungry?" She could barely form the words.

_Of course. There's Slayer blood available._ Oddly enough that was the secondary reason he craved her. _I want to be inside her. Feel her cum, feel her dig into my back with her fingers, and into my thighs with her heels, and know that she's mine. Inside, outside. Mine._ "There's different kinds of hunger." He told her thickly, pulling her the last few inches up, so they were chest to chest. His naked pelvis pressed to her cloaked one, and resisted the urge to just fuck her through the thin little fabric, rip it through the sheer urgency of his desire to be in her.

She panted a little on top of him, trying to slow her heart, even though she knew it was a lost cause. "You mean you don't want me just for-"

"I just _want you_."

_Does not compute. Evil vampire plus blood equals motive for doing this, for taking something private and making it a mockery. For using me. Leaving me._

Angel's face, that next morning, the laughing, mocking voice._ Love you too, Buff..._

_This is Spike. Weird as it is- he doesn't do crap like that to me._

Still she pointed out in a hoarse whisper, "You were so freaked out..." _I couldn't believe that it happened, that I... He just looked so horrified. Man, when you freak out a vampire, you feel really crappy._

"I was." _First time that ever happened to me, used to dating the undead._ "I thought I hurt you." He confessed. "You know that. That's all it was. I never wanted to hurt you. Not during that. You were so strong and I didn't want to be the one to break you."

The throbbing in her throat went to her heart and her uncomfortably hot center. _Everyone always wants to break me. Or cut me down, to fit me into a mold, normal or slayer and he's the only one who ever said you're not one or the other, you're just one. _ She smiled faintly. "You didn't hurt me." _You have the done the opposite of hurt me, ever since you signed up for this stupid game of hide and seek._ "I'm not used to this. That's all. I'll get used to it." _Wait. That sounds like this happens again. This doesn't happen again for a month. Another month! I want to be home way before then!_

His hands stroked down her back as she said her resolute words, and she suddenly realized she wouldn't mind if another month rolled around and he was still in her life. Having her back. Just not in this cabin.

"We all have to deal with stuff." Buffy quietly added.

_Shouldn't have to "deal" with it. She shouldn't have to get used to it. She oughta damn well want it. _

_Not just let someone do it to her until she ruddy well thinks she owes it to him. _

Dark hair, small hips, spread legs- spread for anyone her sire ordered, especially the sire himself...

He shut his train of thought down with a snap. "You still don't seem dead keen on the idea." He kept his voice even as possible and smiled as much as he could. See green eyes, not eerily beautiful blue, see a body shared with him more than any one else. _See her as mine._

Buffy smiled back in the same strained way. "I'm not. I thought it was like, I dunno, pretty much asking to be bitten, asking you to lose control. Like-" _Don't you dare compare them. Spike has all the control you could ask for- except when kicking someone's ass and then that wild killer streak is so hot._

"Like him?" _Minds go to the same places. We could be the same bloody person. If she wasn't so goody goody and stupid, that is. _

Buffy shrugged. "Control was never his strong point. It's why he left. Left me."

He laughed callously, perverse pleasure in superiority over the brooding bastard and his quitting attitude. "I have control. Have to have, or I'd have broken your nose a few times as payback."

She laughed once. "I'd like to see you try."

He managed to turn a smirk into a glowering glare. "We'll see. But no fightin' now. Ready for the cool down." He held her tighter, like he was afraid she'd vanish.

Cool hands on her body. "You're different that anyone I've ever met." She shook her head at him wonderingly.

"You too, Baby." Kissing her. Once. Twice. Losing count.

"Strange." Mortals need air, she had to have an excuse to breathe.

"Strange, together." He reminded her impatiently. Vampires don't need air, and tongue fucking her mouth would have to suffice until her sweeter parts were available.

"Mm!" She held him off with a laugh. "Feels really right though."

_Yes! It effin' does, strange as hell but gettin' comfy._ "Yeah. Well..." _No. She told you no. _Spike managed to look indifferent for a moment_._ "Well, it's been three weeks to the day, Slayer. Twenty-bloody-one."

She gave him the same careless look. "That's right. So it's just a habit. I guess." _It might feel like more, but- it's just a habit._

_Don't look sad, Baby_. His eyes lost their shields. "We don't have to break it until this is over, right?"

"Right." She pounced on his lips with a grateful, relieved smile.

* * *

Laughing, pushing away, pulling and recapturing, kissing. He pinned her face down and kissed his way over her spine, cock nestled on her cheeks through their pink safety net . She gave him a rueful smile over her shoulder and swatted back at him. "I feel like you're the dog, and I'm the leg. Stop humping me."

He called her a bloody nuisance, and got kicked amidships for it. Which he made a big deal of and got another round of delicious stroking for.

She straddled him, working herself against his crotch and thigh without sliding him in, tossing her hair with her head bowed, concentrating on some elusive pleasure. He groped at her and giggled boyishly. Her hair tickled his nose as she ran her aching bundle of nerves against the hard muscle of his thigh. "Who's the dog now?" He gestured to the way she was working her pelvis to him. "Guess that makes you a bitch." She pouted at him and he became apologetic. Which is when she deliberately whipped him right in the nostrils, made him sneeze, and they bumped heads.

"Ow!"

"No, _you_ ow!" He shoved, she shoved- he ended up on the floor, flailing. With his strength, the bed skidded to the side as he hit it with one aggressive foot. "No. That was all you, Slayer._You _ow." He sat on his taut cheeks, smirking up at her in a way that clearly cried "payback".

"I think maybe we need a break. Let's do something less violent." Buffy stood up, evading that demonic smile, and the naughty hints behind it. "Like what?"

"Um... We could go fight in someplace shady?"

"Fighting is less violent than this?" He gave her a dubious look.

"No... maybe less dangerous though." She conceded.

He had to agree. Depending on what you considered dangerous. He watched her dress herself, looking at him furtively from time to time, color up so pink and pretty each time their eyes met. That beautiful girl with her soft heart, and soft breasts and her hard, coiling form. Her sweet scent, all the sweeter to him now, and the watchful, yet trusting eyes, so many contrary things in one package. A perfect temptation. More tempting all the time.

_Oh hell. Dangerous whatever we do, as long as I'm near her... _

_ Touching her, when we move..._

He could see their fights like watching a viciously choreographed dance in his head. She was getting dressed, and he watched each movement, but he could see it running black and white in his head. Watching her move through a different set of motions.

Arms locking, legs would swing, and little grunts, little puffs of air, the way she thrust her hands back into her hair to keep it from her eyes, and the way those eyes widened when she began to fall.

_Can't even think of fightin' her without thinkin' about lovin' her. _

_ Now who's the one who's fallin'? _

"Y'know what- let's wait until it's a bit darker, Luv. C'mon, show me how you make French toast."

Buffy turned in surprise. "Really? Now?"

"You haven't eaten."

"Neither have you."

"I'll make steaks."

"Steaks and French toast?"

"Uh. Yeah." He tugged on his jeans and zipped them up quick, so he could leave the room. "Think of it like a buffet."

"You need more than two things to make a buffet." She followed him.

"Then think of it as food you eat when the other option is we trek fifteen miles down the windiest road in the states to the ranger's station." He opened the fridge, began slamming things out on the counter.

"I'll just think of it as part of the strange. Who knows, maybe two things you'd never put together are awesome." _Though I don't think steak and French toast is going to start any dining trends..._

"You kiddin'? It'll be perfect." _We're the experts on good things happenin' when you mix two things that don't go together. _He thought of the first night they'd been together, so awkwardly desperate, and so sweetly imperfect, the shock of finding that two such mismatched beings fit together so well.

It hadn't really shocked him at all.

* * *

Collins methodically put all of his maps, and instructions back together in the leather folder, slid it beneath the passenger seat of his rented car with the grace of one long practiced. Then he sat. Thirty miles up ahead was the entrance to the reserve, and beyond that, according to the signs, was a ranger's station.

He never sat and smoked on the job, unless he was waiting for his mark. Here his mark was waiting for him, waiting to be discovered and dispatched.

And he was on his second smoke. Untidy. They can trace you from a single butt, these days. He stubbed it out, put it in the car's ash tray, and made a note to do a thorough wipe down later.

He sighed. He didn't do that on the job, either, because sighing was a sign that meant you didn't have the nerve, you had to stall. Not acceptable. He put the car in drive - then let it idle a bit.

Could he have got it wrong? Pryce wasn't much in the way of guts, but he had plenty of brains. He couldn't have misinformed Travers. Still, everything he knew about the current Slayers told him Faith would be the one conspiring with evil vampires, and Summers would be the one tracking her down. It wouldn't hurt to watch for a bit before finding a way to slip her the drugs.

If drugs were warranted.

It was the first time he'd ever considered disobeying an order.

He didn't like it. He drove up the mountain in a skid of rocks and dust, as though he could grind his uncertainty under the wheels.

* * *

_An hour later..._

"You drive!" Spike swung into the back and under the blankets.

Buffy, still coughing, took the keys with a gasp. "Are you sure you want to go right now?"

"After nearly bein' flambéed in m'own kitchen, yes, I think I can handle you drivin'. Out of the fryin' pan into the fire never rang so bloody true."

"Hey, _I_ didn't suggest this. I wanted to go kick your ass. See? That sounds fun."

"Kickin' yours sounds fun too, right about now." And it did. That "unable to control himself, unable to stop mooning over her" urge had passed the moment a blackened, flaming piece of bread flew past his head and into the sink as she squealed and hopped away from the scorched frying pan.

"You didn't do so hot, either, Vamp Face."

"I never cooked a steak before!"

"I didn't think you meant 'beef, add fire' literally!"

"You burnt the only fryin' pan, what was I supposed to do?"

"Dropping it in the fireplace wasn't on the top of the list." She muttered and put the car in reverse. It creakily ran over pine boughs and forest litter, making both of them wince.

"Did you hit a tree?"

"No!" She watched limbs bounce off the rear window and guiltily added, "Just a couple branches..."

He groaned. She huffed. "We're not meant for this sorta life, Slayer. We're meant for the hunt, the kill, the rush, the-"

"The need for actually edible and not on fire food is a fact of life, Spike, no matter how ultra violent our lives are."

He fell silent. "Sorry. Humans and all that needin' to eat and not die rot. You wanna drive into town after all? I know it's risky, but you can't live off crackers and peanut butter and boiled eggs."

"I can for one night." Buffy drove down the steep mountainside with her arms locked straight out, pushed back in her seat, and her foot on the brake. "Because I am _not _driving for an hour straight down."

The car juddered over a large chuck hole. Buffy gasped and Spike swore. "Okay! We're okay."

"Course we are." He said more confidently than he felt. "Slayers don't mind a little bit of a hill."

"Right." She said in a strangled wince as the tired bounced out of it, and rocks skittered out and hit the undercarriage with a grating splash. "So... you studied Slayers right?"

" 'Studied' may not be the right word. I'm still a bloody expert." He preened.

"This Slayer strength and the Chosen package? That's cosmic and mystical and stuff, isn't it?" She flexed her fingers around the wheel, and deliberately didn't look at the nearest elevation sign approaching them.

"Pure God-given 'holier than thou, pain in the ass' power." He nodded, peeping out from under the blankets. _Pure power. Pure heart. Pure bliss in the sack and on the field. Oh fuck, can you stay down for five solid minutes? _He crossed his legs painfully as he came to attention. "What of it, Slayer?"

"I don't think the ancient power people knew about cars." Buffy gasped out with white lips, and didn't look over the side of the narrow road.

Spike thought. Slayers could overcome anything, if they stopped pullin' away, used their gifts. She had. He'd watched it. Seen her give birth to it, he was in awe of that power, and the woman it was fused to.

But she might have a point about cars. The forces of the universe, dishing out ancient powers, might not have reckoned on a now battered Buick and a girl who flunked driver's ed.

* * *

_Forty five minutes later..._

Collins circled back and waited in his car, dark glasses on, smoking as he faced away from the ranger's outpost. He was parked in the public lot, for holiday makers and their caravans, although this far up the mountain, and this deep into the reserve, away from all the bigger towns, there were only a handful of cars.

He wasn't lost, yet he needed to double check his directions before venturing up and out of civilization, off into this rugged and godforsaken place Americans seemed to prefer for their holidays. Give him the tube and the taxis and the buildings that were permanently gray any day. He'd gone past this place once, got caught off on an old logging road he couldn't honestly believe went anywhere near livable dwellings, and turned back, now stood debating. To ask for directions though- his sort didn't do that. A dead give away, a traceable face... he snuffed his cigarette between his fingertips without changing expression and put it in his pocket, leaving no sign of his presence at the almost deserted station.

_Needs must when the devil drives._ He left his car, heading into the building.

* * *

"You doing the supply run, Ed?"

"For us or for the honeymooners?"

"Honeymooners? Who honeymoons up here?"

Collins kept his back to the three men in green uniforms, pretending to be fascinated by the meager selection of local attraction brochures.

Guffaws broke out. "Ray found out the hard way didn't you, boy?"

"Aw, Ed, stop that."

Ed didn't. "Remember a few days back when we had to go check for fires up on the north ridge? Past the lake?"

"Oh yeah. The bear?"

"The wild bear. Ray barged in on a couple in the middle of-"

"ED!"

"Ray, you musta loved that. Was she hot?"

"No, see he didn't get to look at the girl- but he sure got an eyeful of the guy!"

"He's nuts! But I can't blame him. If someone walked in on me and Laura, I'd-"

"If I'm going to town you'd better give me the order."

"Wait, wait. Wanna hear the best part? Ray promised them _delivery_! Door to door- so they didn't charge him for being a peeping tom."

More laughter from two, while Ray's voice got angrier.

"You haven't met him. He was an odd duck, tell you that much. Maybe some kinda ex con, shied away from the light, and was pale as a ghost. And mean. Growled at me. _Growled_! Right in my face, like he was part animal!"

Collins nearly dropped his leaflet on local salmon limits.

"You go right out there and tell them we're not an effing pizza place. This is a branch of the National Forestry and National Parks division! We don't 'deliver' because you walked in on newlyweds!"

"They're probably long gone." Ray stalled.

"They're not! I can still see their car."

Collins slid out of the alcove, with only a slight shuffle of paper and leather soles, unheard under the burgeoning argument.

* * *

_Honeymooners? Can't be. Never. _

_ But he walked in on them in bed. _

_ A pale, angry bloke doesn't mean anything... A good agent never kills the wrong target. Sloppy. _ He hugged his holster as he passed his hand down his shirt, under the action of smoothing out his dark jacket. Nonchalantly, he strolled around the perimeter of the lot, and saw the car. Saw the girl. Standing outside of it. His chest tightened in an unusual rush of adrenaline, a rush he'd thought long dead.

Fear. Qualms. Nausea.

_ She's just a teenager, rooting in the boot of a car. Coming up with her hand outstretched, holding something out to-_

Collins' eyes narrowed. A figure in the backseat. A flash of white, bloodless hands, and then she was in the backseat as well.

"No."

* * *

"No! Why can't you leave a man alone? It's nothing but a little blister" Spike shoved her hands and the burn cream away. "An' I thought the first aid kit was in the bathroom?"

"This is the car kit. There's a house kit and a car kit and there's always bandages in my purse." She slapped a fingerful of cream to the bubbling burn right above his eye. "That's one half mom, one dash Giles, and one little smidge of Willow who gets paper cuts all the time. You know-" she rubbed it in, "with being a major brain and reading whenever her eyes are open."

"Leave off!"

"Stop it!" Buffy put her knee sharply into his outer thigh. "You can't even go give the guy our order without getting hurt. You always get burned for me and it's-" His fingers were tightening around her hand suddenly, hard enough to make her wince, hard enough to make her words die away.

"I always prefer to feel a little spark- then feel nothin' at all."

"I- I- what is it with us and backseats today?" Buffy whispered hoarsely, unable to think or process an adequate reply.

"Maybe we oughta get back home. Get rid of a little energy." He kept her hand, moved up to her wrist, her elbow, holding tight. She looked right at him.

"As in a work out? In the woods?"

"Is that what we call it now?"

"Spike, c'mon..."

"I'll do it anywhere you want, Babe." He winked. She smiled. He let go. "Sure. Let's go fight it off."

_Fight off the energy. The wanty feeling. The stubborn voice that said you can do anything in the world that your heart says is right. How come my heart is all caught up chasing this guy? Better to go chase him for real. _"Good plan. Best three out of five?"

"Two out of three and you help me chase down an' bag some dinner."

"No! No hurting woodland-" _why do I try? _She sighed. "Best three out of five and I'll help you with dinner. Not the hunting part! But I'll lend you my cross bow and I won't yell 'Run deer!' like I want to."

_Well, that's the best offer you're gonna get from her... _"Deal." She squirmed back off of him, a relief to both of their overwrought senses, and got out of the car. "Ah ah ah. Seal it."

"I refuse to spit on your hand." Buffy put her fists on her hips.

Spike rose from the car, feeling his burn reopen and not giving a damn as he caught her open mouth instead. And as she kissed him back. Her hands and her hair shielding him from the sun. _Now this is what I'm workin' for. 'Cause the world wouldn't be worth livin' in if that mouth ever stopped movin'..._

_ Let him burn- I can cure him. Let me feel something together rather than nothing alone..._ Buffy put herself in front of him, and brought him into the shadows as they sealed their silly pact with an unacknowledged deepness.

* * *

Slinking back into the darkness of the shadows cast by the station, Collins felt bile rise in his throat. _I kill men who threaten to expose her. I _kill._ I bloody my hands and never feel a bloody thing- and she's taken up with the Slayer of Slayers. A _vampire.

_ Traitor. Traitor and demon. And no Tower handy... _

This was no longer another day at work. This became an execution. And he was glad it would be slow.

"Yes, good afternoon. Can you point me to the nearest town?" Collins asked, peering over the counter and trying to look lost, instead looking simply out of place.

"Another English dude. You guys don't have mountains do you?" Ed put down his coffee.

"Not like this." Collins kept his trigger finger calm by gouging it into his pocket and playing with his ever present loop of wire. "Yes. The nearest-"

"It's odd to get two English guys up here in the same week."

"I can't remember the last time we had-"

"Do you remember that German family?"

Collins let them prattle away. He was too busy reading the order pad in front of him memorizing the items on the list- before the ranger stuffed it in his pocket.

"Sorry, Sir, what town were you looking for? This is inside the reserve, so a 'town' isn't in this neck of the woods. If you-"

"I remembered the turn I was supposed to take now. Thanks." Collins answered abruptly, with a small dark smile that never made it past the center of his lips.

* * *

_That evening..._

A green jeep trundled up the drive, two brown bags were set down on the hand hewn stoop and Ray, the ranger with the unfortunate history of confronting an angry, naked property renter, knocked loudly and ran like hell.

No one answered.

* * *

Collins traveled on foot the last several miles because it was safer. A vampire would hear a car- and that would be acceptable. Hearing _two_ might trigger his internal alarms. He didn't want that.

He had every item on the list. He had binoculars trained on the house. They weren't in it. He'd seen them cut through the woods at one point, and felt sure any moment he was about to come face to face with the vampire and his corrupted human. He cursed the slowness and the distance between any points of civilization in this area.

Finally however, the moment had arrived. The groceries were dropped, and he had only seconds to safely make the switch without being detected.

He swapped both bags, because it was quicker. And now he had food for himself as well. He made sure the ice he bought was snug around the milk, and retreated back to the limits of his binoculars' range. Now all he had to do was wait for them to pick up the food when they came back into the house. Once the food was safely inside, he would leave for the night, and keep watch sporadically, under the guise of a lost hiker if he was confronted.

The trigger is pulled, he comforted himself, feeling as though this assignment was far too loose, with far too many variables. _The trigger is pulled, it's just a slow kind of bullet..._

* * *

_Day twenty two..._

A glorious high moon rise and a beautiful witching hour. A non stop bout of hide, seek, catch, fight, and even kill- as in his supper, not her.

_But even after everything we do- I still find her bloody well delicious. Got a craving I can't quench, no matter how many times I try to beat it down._

_She just beats me back up._

* * *

"Did you get blood on my sleeve?" Buffy panted and bounced, endlessly bounced, never stopped moving. _Because when I stop moving, I'm going to collapse and he'll win. _

_ I win too. _

"Nah, just a little mud." Spike dodged her blow and flung one of his own. "You better not make me bleed- this is a friendly battle." He smirked in the midnight darkness.

"Is this still the first round?" She gasped out, spinning from his blow.

"It's always gonna be the first round until I win." He laughed.

"Or me!"

"Yeah, one of us has to give."

_But we don't quit. And the only way to force us to admit defeat would be to hurt each other so much we _couldn't _fight- and I kinda think we'd still keep fighting. Like that black knight dude Xander keeps mentioning..._

"Never gonna give in." Buffy muttered and smacked into him hard, punch, punch, elbow, hard, to the center of his ridged torso.

He coughed, and wrenched her arms down, something dangerous reaching for that viciousness she'd just displayed. "Yeah? Why's that?" He growled.

"'Cause I don't quit. We don't. We- we don't." She fought him off.

He didn't stay off for long, pinning her wrists again. "Never admit defeat, that's us, Slayer." Smiled cockily in a beam of blue-white light. "Make plenty of truces though."

"If you want something bad enough you'll do things." She stammered, woozy all of the sudden.

"Unusual things." He agreed, his grip broken. "Not a defeat- an exchange." _Me for you. Hostage negotiation with a bomb strapped to both bodies..._

"Yeah, well..." _We stopped talking about the fight three minutes ago. Everything about him comes out sexy and wrong. And I'm getting used to wrong. He's a habit. He's my habit. Oh God, no, don't let me have a vampire addiction... _

_Fate says I already have one. Supposed to kill them. Not kiss them. Which is exactly what I'm suddenly doing. But it's only for this one. Oh goody. I'm hooked on Spike._

Spike had given up speaking, or fighting, and in his faltering grip, he made a desperate play for her lips. _Maybe she doesn't need to hear the words. Maybe she can feel them. _

_ Want you. Need you. L-_

"This is wrong." Buffy gasped between kisses.

"I know that." _We keep doing it. Doing it. Exactly, doing it here in the woods, or the bed, or the backseat of the ruddy car, just have to do it._ "Why is it so wrong?"

She gave him an incredulous glare at close range, faces mere inches apart. "Because I'm not supposed to!"

_Hah. Like that stops us. Never did before. Even before me._ "You supposed to love someone like me?" He challenged.

She gasped and looked at him with big shocked eyes. "I- I never said I-"

He covered carelessly. "I meant a vampire. Angel."

_Oh right. Of course that's what he meant. At least the answer's easy this time. _"He was good." Buffy justified.

"And I'm bad." He stated simply.

"Right." _No. No, it's so good..._

"And _this_ is bad?" _Are we on about her lettin' me finish what we started in bed, or finish what we started in our heads? _

_Him and me doing naughty kinky off-limits things?_

_ Or just him and me? Either way, the answer's probably the same._

"Right." She answered with much less conviction this time.

"Then it'll be perfect. Matched set." His teeth clicked together inches from her lips.

_Perfectly matched. Two rule breakers looking for a person who at least keeps to the one rule of being in love, even if it's stupid and will never work._ "Like us." Buffy's lips framed the words, barely audible.

"What?" He hardly dared to hope she meant that they-

"Good and bad- gotta have one to have the other, don't you?" Buffy went with the surface issues, the ones easy to see. But getting harder all the time.

"Not so much good and bad, Baby, think of it like the chess set. Always have to have someone to play against."

So simple, and so perfect. That feeling she would have once called the "slayer side" now turned into an all over throb of contentment. She nodded and let their lips meet in the middle. "This game lasted too long. Now it's not a game, it's just how- how life is supposed to look. Someone around. That you can do things with. Play against." Her lips wobbled as she drew back far enough to look him in the eye. "But I don't feel like playing " she confessed, in a tremulous voice.

_No guts, no glory time._ "Feel like lovin'?" _Take it anyway you please. Yeah, I could love her. For a bit. Or just make love to her. Whatever._ He lied brashly in his head, while the inner poet sighed knowingly.

Stillness. No words. A single nod.

He wanted to swoop her up in his arms, the way he so often carried his light as a feather princess, his giggling, swaying princess.

_She's not my princess. _

_ She's a whole lot of other things. She stands on her own two feet. If I ever have to pick her up and carry her- well, the world's about to end again, and probably for real._

Buffy felt like her legs didn't want to work, and her heart seemed to sink into her stomach and choke off her airway at the same time, leaving a two foot span of raw nerves and flesh that jumped to the touch.

"You're wobbling."

"I'm falling."

"I got you."

His arm encircled her waist, and she swore she felt him breathing, as unevenly and raspingly as she was. She got stronger from one touch, her hand planting firmly between sinewy shoulders as they steadied each other.

* * *

_Let him have me. Have all of me. He won't throw me away and I won't do that to him either. I can't keep him._

_ But he's mine for the night._

They tripped over the bags of food without more than a grunt. Spike roughly shoved them over the threshold and promised her'd get out of bed to see to them. After.

* * *

They took the bait. Collins turned off the night function on his binoculars and stretched his stiff, cramped legs. Whistling silently, he began the perilous walk back to his car.

* * *

He did pick her up, only for a second, to put her on the bed. "Sure?"

"Yeah." She was. Of him, at least.

He throbbed and let her pulse guide him.

Back to the bed. his lips on her throat, her breast, her belly, her thigh, each place as it was bared.

Oh God... She swallowed. "Be right back." She let him pull off her last stitch of clothing, but made as if to leave.

"No, you won't, you'll be right here." He half ordered, half pleaded. "Where I can make love to you."

"Oh. In that case." She was still stiff, but no longer poised to leave.

He was over top of her and kissing down, back up, down, tasting her, smelling a sweet rich scent that also had a certain sexual tang. "Don't know why you worry, really." Spike paused above her, elbows just at her shoulders.

"I don't know either..." She confessed. _He won't hurt me. He won't leave until it's the end. _

"Maybe you don't know that this all part of your power."

"Hate to tell you- but all girls my age have this. It's not power."

"It's power enough. Doesn't it mean you're full of life and full of fire?" He smiled down on her. "Doesn't it make you the girl part of the 'one girl in all the world'?"

"You know what?" Buffy watched him talk himself in knots, and they thought themselves in circles. _It ends. _"I love being with you. And it's stupid to waste any time, 'cause we don't know when this is over."

_She loves bein' with me. Me. _"You're right." Who could have predicted that. "No sense in wastin' this. Or in' wastin' anything..." He let his hand wander down, between. She stiffened but didn't pull away. Somehow her steady presence inflamed him more than any lewd thought, and made him more slow and deliberate at the same time.

Buffy gasped as fingers parted her, felt her, but didn't invade. Her own fingers snaked down. A fumble of hands, a reposition, and nervous eyes. Waiting eyes.

Nothing changed. His fingers entered her like they always had. "Poor little thing hasn't had any attention all day." He crooned, slipping gently into her. Finding the cluster of nerves on her upper wall, exploring her with the same awe he always did.

_He acts like nothing changed. I think that's a Spike thing. He loves you no matter what weirdness you have going on._ She laughed softly, watched the delighted smile streak across his face before he resumed kissing her.

_Did I just think that Spike loves me? _

He mistook her gasp of shock for one of pleasure and worked his fingers in long, pleasing strokes more quickly. "Ready, Baby? Been teasin' ourselves for days..."

_And how true is that? About a couple things. Wow. _Head unable to wrap around the idea of him loving her- and maybe the idea of somehow returning that, she focused on their actions, nodding.

Her added wetness made the penetration easier, the scent made him harder, and he held her more tightly, purring and rumbling in turns over his prize. In the seconds when she didn't want to tell him to stop being a cat, she felt that familiar sense of safety taking over her.

_He treats me the same as he always does. Nothing changed. _

_ Everything changes._

An out of place noise jarred him from his pursuit of paradise.

"Sure this doesn't hurt?" Spike stopped his nuzzles to inquire.

"You'd never hurt me." She smiled up at him with a lazy smile on her lips and a burning ferocity in her eyes.

"That's right. I wouldn't." Eyes glaring brightly back.

"I thought this was going to be more complicated." She sighed in his ear.

"Already too complicated." He sighed in return.

Hip to hip, and back out, a slick thud and thrust, wearing her tension away until she opened around him and he could feel the secret spot inside her cavern throb back against him. "You know what's true, Luv?"

_True love... _"Huh?"

"I didn't want this 'cause of any special 'extras'. I wanted it 'cause I wanted you. If we only get a little time together-" he smiled painfully over the words, "I want to do this as much as we can. For as long as you're mine."

"Yours?"

Had he ever said it to her directly? Had he ever said it _at all _with the hope that it would take? Yes, early on, once upon a broken time. "Yeah. Mine." _Well, this is early on, and there's no hope, because it stays early on. She'll never say she-_

"You don't own me." Her voice quivered.

"Nope. Don't think anyone can ever 'own' someone like you, Slayer. Not the new version, not the real thing. Prolly wasn't meant to be shared. These loner types." He wriggled inside her, a sharp contrast to his words.

A reminder that she hated being alone, and loved her new strength, and had only ever felt that satisfaction in her power around him, she declared. "We break rules. I'm not a 'type'. I'm me."

"You are. You're one in a million and then some." The cocky smile faded to softness as he dragged himself up and down her, torturing his senses and making memories of what he'd lose or give up.

Heart said don't hold back, brain said don't hold back, everything said don't hold back. "I'll trade you." She finally whispered. "I'm yours, if you're mine. At least until it's over."

No one ever had that sort of opportunity dropped into their lap. He'd be a fool not to say yes, 'specially as he'd thought it himself as well. He nodded instantly and felt her loosen around him, unlocking. "All yours, Baby."

"All mine." Her fingers raked his arms and didn't lighten up. Pounding against him, sweat beginning to pool, beginning to let go and grab on tighter all at once.

* * *

She lost her inhibitions. He never had many to begin with.

"Say it!" He husked harshly in her cleavage, hips thundering to the rhythm of her frantic heart beat and rushing blood.

"All yours."

"All mine..." He burst in a red hot river, no longer cool, not after basking in her warmth for so long.

She finished just after him, wrapped on their sides in a messy tangle that was... utterly glorious. "If I ever say I think something is icky again- remind me how much I LOVED this." Buffy giggled and kissed him with a tipsy grin.

"Really?"

"Didn't you like it?"

"I'm still hard enough to poke out an ovary. Yes, I bloody loved it!" He rolled his eyes at her. "An' I'm not done yet..."

"Oooh, second round?" Buffy's eyes twinkled at him.

"Mhm. With intermission." He uncurled his arms from her soaked body, and dislodged himself with a juicy sounding squelch.

"Where are you going? You're not going- hey! Get back up here! Now!" Buffy demanded, still lying back, head and shoulders feebly raising.

"Nope. You're mine, an' I'm yours and you know you like it." He licked his lips and then her protruding little nips, still trailing lower.

"Are you going to get all bumpy in the forehead?" She groaned.

"Maybe. Do you care?"

"Ummm. Yes?" _Duh. Also, not true. He knows it too. Smug bastard. Smug wonderful bastard._

"Liar. Behave or I'll bite your thigh, not just lick you clean."

"Don't be gross." Buffy looked down and saw blue eyes blink and come back yellow.

"What'd you tell me to remind you of?" He let a cool tongue flick her where she was burning, and running red like a molten stream. "About the nasty old ickies?" He licked again more slowly, teasing her, daring her...

So much hope and want under a demon's facade. _C'mon. Show me you're mine. All the way mine, even if it's not for all time..._

Buffy swallowed, closed her eyes and let him carry her away to a deeper, darker pleasure. "That I love it. That I love it. Love it..." She breathed, body tensing get higher and higher off the bed and into his demanding mouth.

His hands snaked up under and across thighs to meet hers, to hold them tight and still her squirming. For a second green eyes met amber, and the fangs disappeared.

"Love it." She mouthed.

In his head he changed the final word.

_To be continued..._


	23. Chapter 23

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Some non-explicit smuttiness._

_Author's Second Note: Recall the episode of "Normal Again", with twists and changes, and only words to show how unstable Buffy's mind is becoming. I beg you to bear with me as I attempt to create this picture, while still keeping true to the ideas I have for this story. ~ ~ Before and after phrases indicate that these are "twisted words", words Buffy's mind is struggling with, that no one is actually "saying". It's not internal monologue, it's more like internal mishearing. _

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, micmoc, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, SushiBar, Touch the Dark, hbmckidd, ValidescopeWest, Rachel, Alottalove, Cavementftw, ammuna, marty powell, Sanity Fair, PeaceHeather, Seapea, Maire Ailbhe, Illusera, ShyL, mike13z50, Lakelin Raye and Loverswalk89._

_Thank you for the outpouring of appreciation. Did I mention you're the best, EVER?_

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XXIII**

Little blood red lip marks from navel to throat, and a pale arm thrown across a fading tan body. A snuggle of white blonde to sun-kissed blonde layered on top of one pillow. Eyes closed.

Minds open.

_He loves me. Like, as in everything about me. Okay, almost everything about me, everything that doesn't include being a bad driver or being one of the good guys. And there's nothing I can do to make him hate me, except hurt his heart. I can break his nose and tell him the truth and call him out when he's a jerk... He does the same thing. I feel safe when I sleep beside him, and nothing feels safe...except him. _

_ I don't think I've ever felt safe like this. _

He draped his arm into a tighter circle. The great thing about not having a heart beat, or havin' to breathe, Spike mused, is that she can't tell if I'm awake or not, long as I hold still._ I, on the other hand_, he risked a look at her, _can tell everything when I'm so close. _Little pulses under skin, under his skin.

_She's under my skin, alright. I'd do anything to get the Eye. I'd do anything to get her home safe, too, without it. Long as she didn't hurt Dru. If she hurt Dru, I'd kill her._

_ Where's that leave me? _

He held her tighter, and heard the breathing slow instead of speed up as he expected. _She relaxes in my arms. I could sink my teeth so deep in her neck and- an' I'd prolly gag. _

Slayer's blood of this nature must be a delicacy never before sampled and he would be quite content to reserve it for special occasions, if never again. His demon had the equivalent of a ten day bender hangover. If he could see inside to the place where his soul had resided, he felt sure he'd see the demon flat on its back with a well shagged, happy-drunk smile plastered to his face. He'd be full for a few days at this rate. Full and content.

_She makes me happy. Not the tortured unexpected happy either. Simple kind of happy. Like her. Simple girl really. All she wants is for someone to know who she is and not run away. Look after her as needed, sit back and watch her when not._

_ Damn, I could watch her all day. _His cock tried to rise but faltered at half flag and he laughed in the darkness.

"Hm? Wha?" Buffy started against him.

"Shhh. Jus' thinkin' to myself how bloody happy you make me, Luv." He answered in an afterglow haze, honesty that was always quite brutal suddenly completely unfiltered.

Buffy glowed. Bigger than the glow of feeling triumphant and not as angsty as a forbidden love- merely a great big rush of pleasure in her soul. "You make me happy, too."

"Had a good time?" He considered hastily blotting off the faint scarlet marks on her skin, his bloodied kisses, but didn't want to stir or jar this singularly peaceful moment.

"The best ever." She groaned and rolled a little, to half look at him. He wore a smug smile that was too sleepy for her to take an affront to- coupled with the fact that she looked quite arrogantly pleased herself. "I thought that was going to be such a turn off. But it's not. It's kind of a turn on. Not the whole-" she made a face and left out the details, " 'cause that's a vampire thing. But knowing I didn't have to worry and could just let go-" her painted toes wiggled against his calf- "mmmm. Surprisingly like a high. If I knew what that felt like." She blushed and giggled.

"D'you feel like the world is made of floaty stuff an' you'll never come down an' no thuds'll get you?"

"Uh-huh." Buffy giggled

"That's prolly a high. Cloud nine, maybe."

"Don't think I've ever gone up that far."

He let out a silly giggling snuffle, muffled in her skin. "Never been with me before, Cutie."

She stared at him with suddenly alert eyes. "Never been with me before." Buffy said slowly.

"Yeah..." Spike looked worriedly at her.

"No, I mean, _me_. I've never been with you like that, because I've never been me- like this. That doesn't make sense."

"Give you that." He tried to hug her back to that warm sleepy happy place, but the eyes stayed focused.

"I ignore all the stuff that freaks me out now. You know? The stuff your brain tries to tell you is wrong but doesn't have a reason, just has a fear? I could ignore it. When they were chasing me, when I was fighting them... when I was with you."

"I like that. Ignore it if your gut tells you it's not important." Spike encouragingly traced her chin. "Do what the drive says to go for."

She nodded and closed her eyes, nestling into lukewarm muscles. _What I do with him? What I do at all? It's all just 'what I do'. _

"Love what you do." He whispered in her ear.

"Ditto." Buffy traced his cheek with a lazy fingers as she tossed her arm haphazardly up and reached back. He laughed again. "I do make you happy."

"You do. Oh, you do, Sweetlet." He sighed. "Do I make you happy?"

"Yeppers." She answered automatically.

Spike rolled his eyes and began to cuddle in for some sleep. Then he jerked his head back, overwhelmed by a low growling. "What the hell- Slayer, what'd you do?" He sat up and looked down on her with a surprised, amused eyes. Quite a picture, naked, slightly bruised, completely and utterly limp and lolling against him. He'd wanted to give someone that. Peace. Happy and at peace.

_It was supposed to be Dru._

_ Nah. It was supposed to be me. My gift. Where it lands is anyone's guess. _

Buffy frowned in puzzlement. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a regular meal. Could it be- another growling noise erupted from her midriff. "Hungry? Aren't you?" She blushed and laid a hand on her stomach that felt leaner and harder than it had three short weeks ago.

"Sod it, the groceries." He was out of bed in seconds. "No, Luv, I'm full. Full an' over full. What d'you want?" Spike walked away, down the hall, giving her an excellent view of glutes and the only curve on a sinewy body.

"Um. Whatever's fine. I'll get it."

"Stay there. Bring it to you." Spike called back. He hummed hazily as he retrieved the groceries, yanked the few perishables out, left the rest of the cans and boxes scattered about. He poured her a big glass of milk and tossed in one of the beef jerky sticks he'd ordered for himself, and a handful of cookies. "Dinner!"

Buffy had barely managed to sit up before he was back. "Hey." She smiled sheepishly.

"Sit, lay, rest." Spike waved her back to lying down. "Here." He thrust the glass and the plate at her and flopped back across her, brazenly lying halfway across her, all edges and hollows as his relaxed muscles splayed. "Eat. I don't care if you get crumbs in the bed." He winked up at her.

She sighed and sipped. "Slob."

"Priss." He watched her contemplate the hunk of dried meat. "Oh, go on. Try it, Slayer, you aren't gonna die from it."

She wrinkled her nose and took a bite, chewed and drained her glass. "Yeah, I guess if nothing else has killed me this month, I can survive on your 'cooking'."

* * *

In a few moments, the dish was empty and it was rinsed, left in the sink. Buffy brushed her teeth and considered showering. Rusty brown water._ Not a fan_. It'd have to run for awhile to clear, and suddenly she felt so tired. So very drained. She stumbled forward as she turned off the water, and crept back to bed.

"Spike?"

"Mm?"

"I'm really sleepy." Buffy put a hand to her head and sank beside him.

"Then sleep, you silly thing." He pulled her close and kissed her, tasting the faintly chalky mint of toothpaste and the over all scent of her in herself.

"Mmmmm." Buffy moaned as she stretched beside him. "Feels so good to lie down."

"Feels even better when you're asleep." He gruffly nuzzled into her ear.

She laughed. "Night, Spike."

"G'night, Buffy."

"You called me my real name. I love that." Buffy closed her eyes as the room seemed to blur a bit. "Love. Love love love. I'm very loving."

His eyes opened, narrowed. "I know you are."

"I even love you. Yes. I do, you know, for a snarky evil guy, you are just- awesome. Totally awesome."

Spike peered at her. "Afterglow kickin' you hard tonight. Probably got low blood sugar from not eatin'." He stroked her hair and tried not to shout it back out to the world. _She loves me! She loves me! Well, she loves me like you love a really good whiskey after a really good kill. She loves me in a half-arsed, sleep-deprived, light headed way she won't remember when she wakes up, but..._ "You're a loveable little muffin yourself." He kissed her forehead.

"Yep. Yep. Love muffins."

He grinned crookedly at her as she smiled in his arms. "Someone spiked your milk, Pet? You're loopy."

"Spiked. HA!" She blurted and crashed her head against his arm. "That's your name. You got me the milk. So yeah. It's Spiked! Heee." Buffy's long drawn out noise faded into a sleepy sigh. "I'm gonna sleep. You'll be here when I wake up, right?"

Spike frowned. Of course he would. He might as well be her bloody shadow these days. _Maybe she's feelin' a little... what's the right word? A little insecure? Did just do some heavy stuff for the near-virgin._ "I will be right here, Luv." He punctuated the statement with gentle taps on her her leg. "I promise."

Buffy clung to him as her mind seemed to spiral and spin into the blackness of needed sleep, spurred on by a small but powerful dose of drugs. "Have to be here when I wake up." Buffy whispered, almost whimpered.

Spike bundled a blanket over her and held her close, eyes wide in the dark. _Bloody hell. She does. She does love me. Defenses are crashin' and she knows I'll leave her one day, but not today. No, not for days._ "I'll be right here. An' hold you all night. Don't you worry."

She slept. "I got you. I got you... Be here for you all night." The voice seemed to echo in her head. "Won't leave you alone..."

* * *

Wesley sat up quickly and put his bedside phone to his ear much too hard, answering the early morning call, "Wyndham-Pryce- ow!- speaking!" He fumbled for his glasses, then ignored them in favor of switching the receiver to his other side and massaging the injured ear.

"Hello, Pryce."

Pain was instantly overwhelmed by extreme fear and a guilty urge to hide, which he wished with all his heart he didn't have to feel. "Hello, Sir, good morning." Wesley's precise, unshaken voice did not match the tremors in his hand.

"Are you busy?"

_Thwarting you, yes. Catching up on my sleep, yes._ "No, not at all."

"Of course, it is quite early there." That was all the concession he would make to the fact that he held no regard for the time difference- if it wasn't affecting him.

"Ah, yes. Just about seven, I-"

"I'm sorry I didn't get to see you in London when you were here."

Blood can turn to ice, Wesley found out. All his veins seemed to be sending liquid cold through him, but he shook it off. _Of course he knows. You informed him you'd be at a family function._ "I thought under the circumstances-" _Oh heavens, where's a tape? I unpacked it, where...?-_ "I should only make it a social call."

"Quite wise." Travers praised his discretion. "I wanted to call your father and offer my congratulations. I hear you've added an M.P. to the family tree. Useful."

_Oh dear, have we? Is this a trick? Why would it be a trick? Why wouldn't it be? _"Splendid fellow." Wesley agreed evasively, and then coughed, "Sir, not to take up your valuable time, but if you could just give me a moment to- ah-, that is, I've just woken up..."

"I won't be long." Travers said with an edge of warning in his voice. Underlings did not keep_ him _on hold. "I imagine there were several Watchers in attendance at the wedding. After all, your family has had quite a distinguished service record with the Council- until recently."

Shame and guilt again flooded him, but hot this time. _I tried to help Faith! Buffy as well. I did as I was taught! I can't train a slayer like a machine when she's a person! Why teach us that they are these super, yet sub human beings to be steered like guided missiles of good, when in reality, they're girls with hearts ruling heads a lot of the time? _"Yes, Sir." He took the undeserved rebuke. _Undeserved because I am now doing what will benefit the Council most of all- removing a treacherous, murderous man._

"Hm. I've made numerous phone calls to certain Council members today, and not one has been in his office, or returned my phone call. I can't seem to find anyone but the 'worker bees', as it were, today. Of course, they may all be out at the Academy, but I've not concerned myself with the academic schedule lately...

"It's summer holidays, Sir. Perhaps they're meeting to discuss plans for the fall term?"

"Perhaps. Though that's hardly a full board issue."

_Full board._ Wesley's stomach did a flip flop of tension. _They're meeting! They're meeting! Oh dear, what if they reject the evidence? What if they leave him in power and he orders our deaths and- _He halted the runaway train in his mind. "In light of the struggles we've had with slayers lately, perhaps..."

"Ah, that may be. Nonetheless, I haven't seen a majority of them in weeks. I know you may have seen some of them at the wedding, and I wondered if something new had come to light? Been discussed?"

Wesley called on all the priggishness and wounded honor he could find. "Discussed? As in you were afraid I'd revealed confidential-"

Travers laughed out loud, even though he rarely even grinned anymore. "Heavens, no. Not you, my boy."

Slightly mollified, Wesley knew he shouldn't want Travers' approval, and didn't deserve his trust. It felt so gratifying to know, however, that the man he'd worked so hard to impress had that sort of implicit faith in him. "Thank you, Sir, I must say I'm-"

"You'd never tell! The Wyndham-Pryce's are cowards. Oh, not to danger, don't get offended, Wesley, but to disobedience! The fear of dishonoring your post and your profession has always kept you loyal as a man could want. No, a fear of disobedience is something I admire greatly."

_Not faith. Not respect. Cowardice._ Wesley had to cough several times to ease the bile and the lump out of his throat. "I didn't say anything at the wedding." He finally managed to say hoarsely.

"I know! But the others? Did you hear the others speaking? Talking about the situation? Such a thing has never happened before, not for more than a day at the most." Travers hissed.

_I'm not even the one you fear, though you should. You want me as your whipped cur and your page boy, listening at corners and reporting back to you._ "No one said anything except how radiant the bride looked." Wesley lied softly.

"Excellent. Well, they'll have reason to talk soon enough. In the next two days I should hope."

"Why? Has there been some-"

"Ah ah, Pryce. Not now. Best if you can act surprised when you hear it." Travers hung up the phone. He was worried by the lack of board member presence or communication, but he was too confident in his hand-picked stooge and his unstoppable plan to feel properly afraid.

* * *

Wesley lay back on the bed, eyes open but unseeing. _Head Boy. Never a moment's indiscretion. Handed a Slayer. Handed two! _

_ And all I am to him was a conveniently cowardly man. _

He wanted to sob. A whole life living up to shadows of untrue forms.

He didn't. He slammed himself into clothes- khakis and a plain white teeshirt normally used as an undershirt beneath crisp, collared shirts. _Not today. Forget the bloody suit, it's ninety degrees by breakfast in this sweltering state. _

_ Two days. In about two days. _

Wesley ignored shaving, sliding his glasses on his nose and his phone back into his hand.

"H'lo?"

"I'm coming over." Wesley informed Giles.

"What's wrong?" Giles slumped over the edge of his bed, clutching his recently placed bedside phone, and heard Xander running up the stairs to his loft. "It's a most unseemly hour. And I've had Xander here." He lowered his voice to a hiss. "Do you remember how little teenagers sleep? I thought it was simply Buffy's Slayer metabolism, that let her go with next to no rest, but it's universal."

"Is everything okay?" Xander crashed and skidded into the room. "Ow. Shins. Is everything okay?" He repeated breathlessly.

"I'm not sure."

"I'm sure. Everything it most definitely _not_ okay. I won't discuss it over the phone. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"I've just woken up." Giles bemoaned.

Wesley smiled bitterly. "So have I."

* * *

Buffy woke up slowly, much later than usual, and yet Spike was still beside her. She blinked several times. A feeling of unease was penetrating her that she couldn't quite place. _But I'm okay. I'm the Slayer. The Slayer._ She stretched and kicked off her blankets as the obscured warmth of the sun hit the bed through the curtains. _I don't need to be-_

"Eeeeee!"

A train whistle screech, shrill screaming burst against his ear. "What!? What is it, who is it?" Spike sat bolt up right, his head spinning. "Slayer, what-"

"What did you do to me? What'd you do!?" Buffy looked at her body, ovals, small, faintly red ovals trailing up her skin.

"Kisses, Luv." He reached for her frantic hand.

"Blood! There's blood on me, why is there-"

"Not much. Here, I didn't realize it'd-"

"Get away from me!" Buffy scrambled back, horrified looking.

Spike shrank back, stung. "Sorry. Shouldn't have-"

Her heart rate slowed down. _Not afraid of him. Never was afraid of him. Why should I be, he loves me?_ The downcast blue eyes suddenly transformed, ridges over it, dark springing bangs and cruel lips. _Fear what you love. _

"Shower'll fix it." Spike murmured. "I'll go get that rust trap goin'." He left the room with a half-apologetic expression, half-frown on his face.

Buffy blinked after him. Then ran after him.

* * *

Spike almost went head first as she ensconced herself behind him. "Slayer!"

"Buffy." Buffy looked up at him with large, confused eyes.

"What's wrong, Pet?"

She said nothing, slid into his arms and clung. "Not scared. Not scared."

_Oh for fuck's sake what'd I do to her? What'd I do? Of course she'd be scared, so much is new to her and even if she loves it, it's gotta be some sorta big deal._ "I won't do that again. I didn't know it'd mess with you head, Baby."

"You didn't." She knew that much. "Something just- _bugged_ me this morning. I'm homesick. I think I'm homesick."

"I got you. I have you." He held her close and then gently tried to place her in the water. She gripped his arms tight. He came with her.

* * *

" 'Don't put anything past him. I never should have taken him back into the Council, not after that crowd he mixed with during university. I won't contact you on this line again. Willets knows nothing of our true reasons for finding the Slayer, so say nothing to him. Say nothing to anyone.' And that was the end of the translation." Fallows finished reading the notes and gravely looked at the eleven faces around him.

"I call for a motion of 'inquiry with the accused', as is stated in Council Rules of Order." One withered, deflated voice hoarsely challenged.

Fallows looked up in surprise. It was Newcomb, the ever-doubting Thomas.

"I second." Harbin raised his hand.

"Point of order. You were on the original committee that took evidence. It must be seconded by someone else. Someone who was not present at that meeting." A graying man with the voice and bearing of a judge stood to address the grave members of the board. "Therefore- _I_ shall second it. We must do things legally, gentleman."

"So no one dare say we have been poisoned by this corruption." Harbin spat.

"That is unjust at this time." Another voice argued.

"It's still jolly well true." A scuffling of chairs and rising men.

"I will give the order. But it won't go well." Fallows murmured.

"We stand together. Six of us will go see him now."

"No, we can't. The papers must be drawn and witnessed. We need to wait until the morning and return to business as usual. You may tip him off that something is amiss if you approach him now. "

* * *

"Now, there you go." Spike fluffed her hair with a smile, glad to see her eyes no longer looked so haunted. "All clean and spring fresh."

"Thank you." Buffy calmed herself down. That feeling of fear and the world having suddenly shifted into fun house perspective... not good. "Sorry about- I think I needed more sleep. Or less stress. Something."

"We can go work it off again, Luv. Fight it off... work it off?" He smiled gently but suggestively.

A puzzled frown, a shift of those facial features, vamping, Angelus, vamping, -human. "Not human." Buffy murmured.

"Nope. Super human, all the way, you an' me." He plopped down on the couch, arm smoothly across her shoulders.

Buffy's brain and instincts were at odds, but they were taking turns playing pro and con.

_Vampire, run! _

_ Trust him, he's your protector, your lover. _

Dark eyes, dark shadows, a back walking away from her in a snug black sweater. _You can't trust lovers. You can't trust anyone but yourself._

"I'll get you somethin' to eat, okay?" Spike waited for her to acknowledge his touch or his joke, but she just sat there- lost in place. His scalp prickled with an odd sense of deja vu. Something he was reminded of that he just couldn't place.

"I'll get it." Buffy launched herself off the couch and went into the kitchen. She grabbed the eggs- and recalled they had charred the crap out of their frying pan. Cereal would have to do instead.

* * *

"What could they possibly do instead? They could move to another location, but if he can call forth demons to trail her by the scent of her blood..." Giles had spent the last several hours going round and round this same point with Wesley.

Wesley- Mr. Suddenly I Must Have An Active Role In Saving Her Life- Wyndham-Pryce looked like one of the world's scrawniest and preppiest thugs at this point. His white shirt was untucked and khakis rumpled from hours of pacing and getting up and down off the floor as he rifled through shelves of books, looking for some protective spell they might've missed. He'd given up wearing his glasses, and his stubble and unkempt hair made him look- well, not at all like a Wyndham-Pryce. It must've been that drastic change in both looks and attitude that prompted Xander to christen him "Wes".

"I'm with Wes. We need to get up there! We actually have a warning this time, a real one, with a timeframe! In _two days_, the evil dude said!"

"And as I keep saying, what do you think any of us can possibly do that Buffy and- her protector, can't do differently? They've already fought off some fairly substantial demons, with _no _notice."

"But now the Council guys know you know, right? So you can get up there. _We _can get up there. Or down there. I'm assuming we're talking up, but maybe not, because I hear a lot of Spanish in the background when I talk to her. Is she in Mexico?"

"Honestly, I don't know." Giles stated. "And, yes, they know we know- the board, that is. Travers doesn't know, Gervais and- whoever it is-"

"McAndrews." Wesley supplied. "And hang them, all of them! Who cares if we-"

"Willow. Joyce." Giles looked at Xander. "You put them both at risk, and ourselves as well. We could be followed, right to her. We stay put, and we warn her. I'll advise her to move to another place, a well populated place, a hotel even. It shouldn't be more than a few days." He had said this often enough, but now he had genuine hope as he repeated it. "It shouldn't be long now. Once Travers is 'dethroned' as it were, he can't give orders to tail us, or her, and he'll lose the resources to send demons after her."

"I want to do something! I am tired of sitting on the sidelines!" Wesley grumbled loudly.

Giles rose up and shouted, tired of diplomacy and rationale. "I can't help that! Xander- the same to you! I've been going into the 'game', you've been going into the 'game'- and this is not a game for one thing- and I know when it's time to charge in and when it's time to wait! Right now we wait. I trust Buffy's judgement."

"Uh- G-man? Were you not there for the 'I Only Eat Jello' week? She thinks marshmallows in green slime is a fruit salad with food content."

"She is the Slayer, as well as Buffy." He smiled faintly, eyes gray under hazel, heavy under the fine lines. "She told me she was done running."

"Well- she doesn't have to run. _I _want to run! I'm sitting on my rapidly turning to lard ass from the total lack of running!"

"Yeah!" Wesley cried. Giles' eyebrows raised. "That is- Yes! We mustn't sit!"

"Trust. Her." _The earth has been doomed before- and often I imagined it would be immediately following one of her little "oops!" exclamations. Only she has never failed in the end._ "I will ask what she wants when we speak to her. I'll call her now."

* * *

"The phone." Spike handed it to her. She usually leapt for it. Now she was sitting still, dead still, staring into her empty bowl.

"Kay." Buffy took it from him. "Hi?"

"Buffy. Thank goodness, are you well?" Giles could't help but sigh at the sound of her voice, still not silenced.

"Yeah. Sure. Headachey." Buffy murmured. _Safe. Safe with Giles._

"Buffy, listen. Wesley- Wesley wants to tell you himself apparently." Giles' voice became fainter as the phone was torn from his hand.

"Buffy, yes, it's Wesley-"

"No!" Buffy couldn't have told you what caused the violent outburst. She didn't even realize it was inappropriately reactive at the time. "No! I'm not listening to him, you can't make me! He's not my Watcher! Giles is my Watcher!"

Spike's lighter clicked shut and his smoke remained unlit. "Slayer..."

"Giles!"

"I'm here, I'm here!" Giles looked nervously between Xander and Wesley. "I understand. But he is trying to help. Honestly, I've seen him, Buffy. He's on our side."

Wesley's angry heart was placated slightly. _Someone knows. That I'm not a coward. Not that it matters who knows, as long as I am sure of myself._

"Wh-what's going on?" Buffy tried to force the lightness back into her voice.

"Wesley heard from Travers. He said- well, he said 'in about two days'. That- erm- you'd no longer be a problem. Now..."

Giles spoke on but Buffy no longer heard his words. She heard his _voice_. Loud and clear, but not actually like his at all. _Which is weird. Why doesn't he sound like himself? The words aren't right... _That was the end of the tugging of her healthy mind as poison began to take its toll.

_~In two days it won't be a problem. For me. You've been a terrible burden. For any of us. In two days it'll be over.~_

"-to assist you. We've nothing to lose- Wesley and I. We could come to help you, just an extra pair of eyes as we have a pinpointed date."

_~We could come and end it now.~_

"I thought you wanted to help me." Buffy whispered. Across the room, Spike put down his lighter and unlit cigarette altogether. "You wanted to save me..."

We do!"

_~Don't you think it's noble of me? After all- your lover killed my girlfriend. The only woman I've ever been serious about, who I thought could accept my role and the demons surrounding our secrets.~_

"I'm sorry, Giles." Buffy's voice shook.

Giles stared at the phone. _She must feel so abandoned by me. Weeks of lying and hiding and only Spike for company. I told her I'd be there to help, and I've only managed to offer at the end of the long haul. Well, that is indeed the job of the Watcher, but- _"Buffy, you've nothing to apologize for."

Her brain let the quietly warm words filter in and she smiled- until the poison twisted all he was continuing to say.

_~It's hardly your fault you fall in love with vampires. You are a freak of nature." _The voice was matter of fact and precise in her ears_. ~You choose other freaks. When they turn on you- or others-~_

Images, graphic gory images of Angelus hurting Jenny, hurting Giles, images that had never even existed- tortured her and she let out a yelp of a sob. "I'm sorry!"

"I don't understand!" Giles let out a yelp of his own, in mid-apology of his own, for leaving her so long and rehashing the risks and the whys. _Perhaps I'm only making her feel more guilty or more alone. I'm not sure. She's never acted quite like this..._ A frown etched itself deeply on his face. "Buffy, we love you, and I know you don't want to put us at risk, but it is a risk we're perfectly willing to take. It's your decision."

_~You hold our lives in our hands. And look how badly you've done with us...~_

"Please stay home. Stay safe. Don't be mad, I'm- I'm trying!" Buffy dropped the phone with a strangled sob and fled to the crawl space, leaving the phone open on the floor.

Spike bent and retrieved it, eyes nailed to the now shut door above them. "What did_ you say_?" He growled in a low, gravelly tone. "You made her cry!"

"I- I didn't say anything objectionable!" Giles spluttered. "I feel terrible! What happened up there?" The voice lost the bewildered note and went straight for threatening. "If you so much as laid a single fist on her-"

"Bugger _that_, Watcher. She's broken my nose four times in as many days." _Just not these most recent days_. "She's the only one doin' any layin'." _Well... depending on how you use the word..._ Images of her writhing under him and over him, laying her, laying him, it was now simply them, no "doing" to each other.

"Maybe the knowing she has only two days has made her-"

"What? What about two days?" Spike interjected in a hiss.

"Who is this guy?" Xander demanded, hearing some static shouting. "Did he hurt Buffy?"

With a strangled noise of repression, Giles moved several steps away. "I spoke out of turn. I'm sure you did nothing objectionable... that would place your desired object in jeopardy."

_That'd put Slayer in jeopardy,_ Spike mouthed off inside his head, correcting his misapprehension silently- and realized how true it was. He cooled of instantly, some deep twinge of pain and loss. "Tell me what's happenin'."

So Giles did, concluding with "I don't know what Travers' plan is. This could be part of his plot to lure her out."

"Indeed! He hasn't spoken to me in days, and now this call? It could be for information- or it could be because he's watching us, to follow us to her, sure we'll rush to her side now."

"Thought you had this whole thing with the almighty bastard sewn up. In two days, won't he be out of power? No assassin follows orders unless there's something to gain." _Unless you happen to fall for the girl. Then-_ that pain was back, duller and sharper, a throb. He continued hastily, harshly. "You can't get anything out of the man if he's not in a position to give it, locked up. Or worse..." He thought happily about that possibility.

Giles also thought of that with a touch of longing. "Perhaps you could persuade her to move? Just a few hours way? Or keep traveling for a few days?"

"I'll try." He sighed. "But there's no place safe if they could track her here. We're not exactly in the metropolis."

Giles shook his head. "We stand ready. As you will. I hope that Travers will be defunct by then, but in case-"

"Yeah. I'll be ready. In case." Spike rubbed the back of his neck and looked towards the small staircase to the slanted little attic.

Giles also looked skyward and rubbed his eyes. "Is there anything? Anything at all different?"

"Not that I- ha. Funny thing. She's- hrm. Y'know. _Hrmm_."

"No, I don't know 'hrmm'." Giles said testily.

"You sure say it a lot for not knowing what it means." Xander muttered broodily, more displeased than ever he didn't know who Buffy's second pair of eyes was, and what he may have done.

"We've been gone three weeks."

"She must be very homesick."

"True an' all..." Spike tried to blurt it. Couldn't. "Feelin' a bit off. Y'know. Maybe a- a bit off." A more honest description failed him, and he scuffed at the ground wondering where the hell the blunt streak he was so proud of had scarpered to.

"Off? In what way?"

Englishman to Englishman or not, he only had so much delicacy in him before he cried in exasperation, "She's bleedin', alright?"

"Bleeding! How? Why!?"

"I dunno, it's natural for you livin' types!" Spike shouted back worriedly, privately convinced he was going to undergo some sort of death by embarrassment and wondering if he'd burst into flames or just turn to ash.

"What are you- oh." Giles colored.

"An' it clicks. Oxford's come down in its education standards since I was there." Spike muttered, deciding snarking was the best cure for a case of Victorianism.

"You weren't being exactly clear." Giles flushed. Then frowned and hissed, shoulders hunching, whispering out of earshot. "She may be more emotional."

"No bloody kiddin'."

"I erm- I tended to avoid the subject but I- um. Yes."

"Is she craving chocolate?" Xander asked flatly, having figured out what was going on from the end of the conversation he could overhear.

"Is she craving-"

Spike heard the boy's voice. "No. An' she tore me a new one about that bein' a stereotype- an' being before hand."

"No, and that's stereotypical." Giles relayed to Xander.

"Yeah, well- it's true. Let me tell you what teenagerhood with two girls for best friends is like. You learn exactly what's B.S. and what's real in their cases. Willow joneses for popcorn and Buffy- well, I literally saw her pick up and shake the vending machine when they were out of Snickers. Something else is bothering her if she's not demanding chocolate." He stated firmly. "And God I wish I didn't know this. I know way too much. Damn co-ed health classes... And my lack of jock ability."

"Perhaps we could have her mother call her in a few hours once we go over." Giles suggested uncomfortably. "Or Willow."

"Sounds good, Watcher. Don't know if it'll help too much though. She's actin' different. Not herself."

"You don't know her that well." Giles reminded him stiffly.

_The hell I don't._ "We'll call if we need you. I'll tell her to expect a ring from Joyce."

He hung up and then paced a little bit. _What happened to her? _

_ Is it my fault?_

He kicked savagely at the fireplace with painful swiftness, spine arching, fists clenched as he gave in to a wave of anger. _I hurt everyone I love, even if I don't bloody know how._

* * *

Buffy rocked herself, up in a ball, head on her knees. She shifted restlessly between silent sobs, a churning nervousness in her limbs fighting with a sluggish feeling that made her feel drained and weak. And weepy.

_Don't give in. Don't give in. _

But she was fighting against herself, just as Travers had predicted.

She gave.

_I hurt everyone I love. And they don't want me back. They want it over._ I _want it over. They can't even wait for me to die my ridiculously early death, they want to help speed it up._

_ I won't let them! _

_ Maybe I _should _let them._

Fear and worry gnawed at her in an increasingly hazy brain. Nothing solid or familiar to cling onto. _Only me out here. And I'm a freak._

Something inside her rebelled. She wasn't a freak! She was special. Okay, a freakishly specially strong person. Powerful.

_This is my power. _

Another twist in a sickening soul, system dredging poison faster and faster as she tried to fight it off.

_My power. Mine. No one is gonna take it from me. I won't let them end me. _

A dark thought, blacker than she'd ever felt, overcame her, and she knew that something was wrong. "I shouldn't feel like this... think like this. Something's wrong with me."

_Which is why I'm alone, and no one is going to help me unless I help me- and something is wrong with me. _

It might have been a circle that never stopped- until she was literally stopped, ended, over- if not for that persistent jerky streak in Spike.

He barged in, angrily shouting, hands gesticulating, alternating between raking his hair and stabbing the air in her direction, "Alright, look- I don't know what I did wrong, or what the bastards in Sunnyhell did wrong, but- no one wants you to cry. Even me. An' that's-"

"I don't know what's wrong with me...and why no one wants me and why everything goes wrong and I feel this way!" Buffy held onto the one recognizable thing in her world, even as it blurred between reality and tortured visions. "I don't know why everything is wrong and- and -I don't know why I'm always... alone?" She finished, as her eyes clouded again, and black clothes merged with dim attic, leaving her in some sort of shadowland.

He pulled her out of it, touching her and making her jump and quiver, a seemingly disembodied hand suddenly cupping her head.

"I'm here. I'm right here, Baby. And I'm not goin' anywhere. I'm not leavin' you." He knew it. He hated it and loved it and knew it.

Buffy sobbed once before strength reasserted itself- limping strength, but still strength. "Okay. Don't go. I won't go, a-and you don't go, and we'll just- be together?" _The bad things will stay away... _Something clawed at her mind, but she shrugged it off for a little longer.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's how it goes." He went to pull her from the floor and the huddle she was in, and found a steel grip pulling him down instead.

* * *

He forgot she needed to breathe, because she didn't let go of his head, wouldn't let him stop looking into her eyes.

_Because he's safe. As long as he doesn't change, I'm safe, too. _

Sliding hard to her, in and not ever out, merely holding her to himself, small hips nailed under his to the rough wooden floor, leaving imprints in dust -surreal.

But everything about her was surreal, and maybe that's why he didn't notice anything was wrong as long as he was wrapped in her.

_She's changeable that's all. Hormones and life and livin' course through her._ He realized he hadn't had a human companion like this, never one for more than a few days, never three weeks of getting to know her and watch her change. A change that he enjoyed and loved, not like the heart stabbing changes he was used to.

Perhaps that's why he didn't worry too much about the differences in her at that moment. He loved the ever varying palette of this girl. He held her painfully tight and drank her in.

_He's mine, he's mine, he's safe and if we just hold on... _Her heart was breaking more and more with every push and every grunt, every cold touch that heated up. _Everything is leaving me and I'm alone... I'll be alone, they sent me away or I send them away somehow..._

She'd stopped kissing him for the first time in twenty minutes or more. He grabbed her neck and twisted her chin gently back to him. "You're alright, Luv."

"No. I'm not." She whispered confusedly.

"You will be. Make you okay." That deja vu feeling slid down his spine again, but as it was chased by her desperate groping hands, he didn't think on it for more than a moment.

"Make me better." She was sliding over the edge, and she knew she was dangling over a dangerous precipice. The Slayer isn't afraid to throw herself in...

"What do you need? Need another spot, do you?" He shifted up into her with a flash of lust under all the other layers that were on the surface of his eyes.

"I need you to say it. Say it to me." Scared out of all proportion and guilty as hell- and unable to save herself _or_ back down. 'Cause she didn't back down anymore.

He froze- marble slammed into a seeping, flesh colored goddess. "I...D'you?" He demanded hoarsely.

"I don't know. I don't _know_." She shook her head frantically, blonde hair fanning and catching on the wood as she swallowed hard. "I just know I wish I could. I wish _you _could. I wish-"

He'd waited a mortal life and an unlife for a woman to want it. To admit she wanted to, even if she could not. To be honest, and to mean "love" in the same way _he_ meant love. "You promised not to hurt me..." He growled warningly.

He had sworn the same. That was the main reason that her grasping mind had seized onto him. "I - I don't throw people away. I try to hold onto them but they slip through my fingers." Her eyes flashed and slid away, losing him. He dissolved behind suddenly opaque jade.

Good thing her ears still worked. Faint and harsh all at once, it came to her, as if shouting from under water.

"...I love you...Love you." On repeat as he rocked harder and took what he was paying for. Unfaithful heart, so tired of trying and so torn. He blinked angrily and slammed into her, wondering how he could have let this happen.

"I won't break your heart." She felt the edges of pain as he took out his frustration, and soothed him with a warm palm over the center of his chest.

"Better not."

Something cool and wet hit her cheek, and mixed with the hot drops she found trickling back towards the blonde pillow of her hair. "I don't know what's wrong with me." She repeated, hands working up to cup his face, to smooth the anger from his jaws.

"Me either." He admitted in a defeated sigh. What was wrong with either of them.

"I love that you didn't run. I love that you love someone even when they aren't perfect."

"Don't want perfect. Just want you."

Her brain cleared. It was an unpleasant clearing, like sun glaring on snow, and it stung the most sensitive parts, not her eyes, but her heart. It burned and winced, and wouldn't leave.

She knew then that she loved him.

_I'll tell him when I feel better, when I know what I'm saying._

So that day, and all the night, she showed him.

_To be continued..._


	24. Chapter 24

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Happy Holidays, Readers and Friends!_

_Author's Second Note: Okay, so we're working with a concoction of fear/paranoia inducing poison and the hallucination producing toxins used in "Normal Again." We've got long confusing dreams that play on Buffy's worst fears and her guilt- all trying to push her to the point where she snaps. In addition we have the "twisted words"._

_~ ~ Before and after phrases indicate that these are "twisted words", words Buffy's mind is struggling with, that no one is actually "saying". It's not internal monologue, it's more like internal mishearing. So in a nutshell- if you feel disoriented, confused, frustrated- you're feeling what she feels on a smaller scale. Don't worry- I promise the next chapter is the last chapter where I have to create that atmosphere._

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, Ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, micmoc, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, Touch the Dark, hbmckidd, ValidescopeWest, Rachel, Alottalove, Cavementftw, ammuna, marty powell, Sanity Fair, NausicA, Twotoe, Seapea, Maire Ailbhe, Illusera, ShyL, mike13z50, and Loverswalk89._

_You guys have to be the most patient and supportive group of reviewers anywhere. I am so glad you're mine ;)_

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XXIV**

_Day Twenty-Three_

She was only okay as long as she was with him, showing clinginess that was completely and utterly out of character for her- and her bodyguard didn't realize it.

He thought this was what it was like when you were in love. It certainly had been for him. An ever present need for nearness and touch, to prove your devotion. _We're not like that though. We aren't some destined great love affair. Far more simple. Ha. Or complicated. Whatever. She already knows I'm devoted to her, it's part of the bargain. _Nonetheless, he was content for warmth and affection he'd been robbed of in the last year. Maybe if they hadn't been getting along so well previously, it would have tipped him off. But now...

She sat in his lap as they thumbed through their dictionary, looking for translations. She didn't seem to have any interest in the show, however.

_That doesn't seem right. _"Slayer, are you-"

"I'm sleepy. I was up all night. So were you." She reminded him with a yawn and curled up against him more firmly.

"That's true." He closed his eyes and leaned dark circled eye to dark gold hair. "You wanna sleep?"

"No..." Buffy murmured, shaking her head. "Afraid to sleep..." She blinked. "Why did I say that?"

Spike lifted his head. "You worried about what the old man said?"

_In two days it won't be a problem. For me. You've been a terrible burden. For any of us. In two days it'll be over._

"Yeah, sort of. I mean... Giles has never acted like that before."

"Well, he's never heard his Slayer might bite the big one in two days time. No, wait..." _That happens a lot. That happened with _me_. Damn. In exactly two days... See you Saturday, I said. What happens on Saturday?, she said. I kill you, I said. Oh bollocks. What happened to us? _

"One day. Now it's one day." Buffy replied in a vague monotone.

It sounded eerily like the phrase they'd been rabbiting back and forth, "Some until someday." "Hey. It's gonna be fine. You're the strongest person in the universe- an' I'm the strongest vamp in the universe." He preened and winked. "No one's gonna touch you."

_No one will touch me._

_ Because I'm alone. Alone, I'm meant to be alone, my friends are gone and I'm alone._ "No one?" Buffy whimpered.

"That's right." Oh God, some cocktail combination of fear and the remnants of sex and her newly ended menses... He licked the back of her neck and cupped her breasts firmly, pulling her back into his chest. "No one lays a hand on you... _except for me._"

She shivered and tried to pull away at first, something inside screaming against being grabbed from behind.

He felt the shiver and eased up immediately. But not before she realized it.

"Spike... something's happening to me." Buffy sank back against him.

"I know, Precious. It's happenin' to me, too."

"Weakening." She'd realized it when she tried to pull away- her muscles felt soft and smushed, unable to pull with their normal steeliness. _He's stronger than me. That's not okay. That's wrong._

"It is. It's a weakness, Baby." _Falling in love, the worst thing we can do to each other. I tried to fight it- and I'm failing. Bloody hate failing._

"What should we do?" Buffy flexed her fingers helplessly. Even her fists didn't seem to curl as tightly, as if something had slackened her muscle tone. If she had been more clear headed, she might have realized that she'd felt that way before, earlier that same year, as if someone was slowly turning off her strength.

_What should we do? _Spike contemplated and sighed. _I could tell her I said it in the heat of the moment. But that's a lie. I could tell her she's just a fling, because once I heal Dru, I'll be her boy again, like I was meant to be. But that's a lie too. Oh, I'll heal her. But will she be the one I love? Now that I know what it's like to love someone else, and love 'em with all he flaws and all the changes- all the strange I wouldn't try to "heal" for a million quid? _

"Spike!" The longer the silence lasted, the more it seemed sinister, gnawing at her. Her skin prickled and even though she tried to calm herself, her senses refused to be soothed.

"I was thinkin'!" He answered defensively. "It's a hard question!"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's right." Buffy bit her lip. _But he's going to help me. He knows something wacky is happening and he's going to help me fix it because he has my back and he-_

"Don't fight it, baby. Give in. Let it happen."

He was talking about falling in love.

She was thinking about her strength slowly sapping, about becoming helpless and being a lamb left out for the slaughter slated to occur within a day.

"Let go of me!" She gasped, and stumbled off his lap, down the hall.

"Don't you think I've tried?" He hollered after her.

* * *

"I've been trying to reach you gentlemen for two days." Travers greeted several board members with curt nods and opened his office door wider. "I expected a phone call, not a visit from half of you."

"Quentin Travers, Head of the Watcher's Council, we, the Council Board, do hereby summon you to appear before a court of inquiry to read through and defend yourself from charges of misappropriation of Council resources, funds, and personnel." Fallows read from a prepared, witnessed document.

It was hard to say what exactly happened next. Much blustering, protesting, and shouting, seven men in crisp suits, each the picture of propriety, breaking into fisticuffs in the plush surroundings of Travers' office and the adjoining corridor.

When the figurative dust settled in ten minutes or so, Quentin Travers was being led to the boardroom, several flights down, and a grave and expectant hush had fallen over the entire building.

"The king is dying." Robson, an Arthurian fan, felt compelled to whisper to Abby as the cathedral-like silence began to dissipate. Everyone was shuffling quietly and uncomfortably past each other as the massive double doors of the boardroom swung shut and locked.

"An' we saved the queen. Pub?" Abby whispered with an irreverent sneer.

"At a time like this?"

"Course."

"I can't. I- I can't until I know what's happening. Travers didn't look an inch bothered."

* * *

Travers' cold, commanding gaze cowed all before him, even those who knew every traceable detail of his transgressions. "Good afternoon, ladies, gentlemen." Travers shook off the hands on his arms and adjusted his simple gold cufflinks.

"Good afternoon, Sir." An automatic response, drawn out of long tradition, echoed from half those assembled.

Fallows frowned. Travers allowed himself a small smile, hidden behind a hand as he faked a yawn.

The charges would never stick. Without evidence from the loyal Wyndham-Pryce, there was nothing he couldn't wave away. And soon, very soon, her death would be announced, the new Slayer would rise and give her allegiance to him, and all would follow her lead.

_They will never dethrone me. This is my kingdom, and the crown will ever rest upon my head._

* * *

As evening in London deepened, a figure wrapped in heavy shawls crept near the Watcher Headquarters, unable to approach due to the great strength of the wards and charms protecting it. Even from one so powerful as her.

A beautiful mocha face peeped from her swirl of cloaks, a face lined and drawn, aging despite her eternal youth. A broken heart sapping her strength, eating her from the inside out.

"_Mede_." She hissed softly. She could not get him here. Long slender fingers tossed a handful of clattering of bones at her feet, and her eyes glowed as she read them.

"It alright. They bring him out in chains, soon enough. Soon enough."

She slid back into the alleys and held a hand over her aching emptiness, blinking back tears which she couldn't seem to staunch. "I can hold on a few more days." She fondled the grinning skull resting atop the dagger tucked against her breast. She flipped back the skull and felt the comforting point of the wood concealed beneath it. "Be home soon, my love..."

* * *

"You'll be home soon, Honey, and we can put all this behind us."

Joyce had tried calling yesterday, day and night, and Giles had persuaded her nothing was wrong but that Buffy had not been feeling well. "Lady matters." He had coughed. Joyce, fighting every maternal instinct in creation, and the urge to beat a location out of him, had put off calling until that afternoon. "Are you feeling better?"

"No." Buffy answered honestly. "Mom. Mommy, I think I'm sick. I'm really sick, I'm so tired and I feel like stuff isn't making sense..."

"Are you eating enough? Are you getting enough iron?" Joyce went to the practical first. "How long have you been feeling like this? Have you called a doctor? Oh, no, I guess you can't, can you? Oh dear. Are you running a fever?"

"I'm eating." Only guiltily, Buffy realized she hadn't eaten in hours. "I'm- I'm eating something right now." She went to the kitchen as she spoke, ignoring the figure sitting empty handed and empty eyed on the couch. "Mom, is Giles there?"

"Yes, he and Xander and Willow are all here." Joyce replied in a comforting tone.

Buffy bit her lip and her suddenly cold fingers struggled to unscrew the lid on the peanut butter, dropping it to the floor, seeming not to notice as it rolled away. "Go someplace private, okay?" She whispered.

"Here." Spike was beside her offering her the recaptured jar. Neither noticed the tiny pinprick in the bottom of the bottle.

"Th-thanks." Buffy decided to ignore the bread on the counter, and seized a spoon instead. She fled to the attic crawlspace with the phone in one hand and the peanut butter and the spoon in the other.

"I'm alone, Buffy. Now what's bothering you?" Joyce asked. "Is it that man? Is he- is he _bothering_ you?"

"What man?"

"Your bodyguard?"

Buffy slid the spoon into the smooth brown substance as she tried to answer. Fear and instinct were still having periods of separation, and this was one of those fortunate moments. As much as she had been afraid of Spike's earlier statement, telling her to give into her weakness, her gut reaction still yelled loudly, "Spike will never stop fighting to save you. It's his job. He wants to. He wants _you_. He loves you."

"He's wonderful." Buffy whispered brokenly. "I don't understand him, or- or how I feel about him, Mom, but I know, even when I'm confused, that if he's around- I'm going to be okay."

Joyce was taken aback. "Buffy, are you getting involved with this man? I know you have to work with him, and I can tell you like him, but anything more is a mistake. You're both in very stressful circumstances right now."

A heated denial would normally have been out of her mouth in seconds, but she was done lying for now. "I can't help it. You can't turn off how you feel about someone." Buffy felt the words pulled out of one of the unaffected places in her mind.

"You can try!"

Buffy swallowed two mouthfuls of peanut butter in quick succession. "I know, Mom. I am. But no matter what happens- I know he's looking out for me. This is important to him."

"Well, that's a relief. But if he tries anything-"

"Mom! Not now, please? There's not much time."

_What a horrible thought. _Her daughter's minutes might literally be numbered. "I'm sorry. Why did you need to talk to me alone?"

Buffy's mind swirled for a second, but she licked her lips and struggled to find her rapidly unraveling train of thought. "Giles... he's coming up here."

"What? No, he told me you didn't want him to."

"I don't! But he's coming anyway."

Joyce tilted her head. "Are you sure?"

"He said I'm a burden to him. He said it'd be over soon."

Joyce bridled in parental anger, but surprisingly, managed to halt the rage. "Buffy, Mr. Giles cares about you. Very much. More than I like, sometimes, and I don't think he'd ever call you a burden."

Only that wasn't what the slayer heard. The second jolt of toxins to her system acted quickly, absorbing fast in their potent combination.

Joyce continued. "He said it would be over soon because that awful man is being put on trial! They heard this morning that he's officially being summoned or arraigned or something. This has been a burden on all of us, but Sweetie, you know we wouldn't have it any other way, if it means you can come home safe and never be bothered by this deranged man again!"

Buffy stared at the phone in horror. "Mom... How can you say that?"

"Because it's true!" Joyce took the tremor in her child's voice for some deep emotion- but not deep despair.

_Because it's true. Even my mom can't wait for me to be gone. _She replayed the words in her head, holding the phone weakly against her ear, tuning out the stream of reassurance her mother was actually delivering.

_~Of course you burdened Mr. Giles. And I'm offended you thought of _him_ first- as always! What about the burden you placed on _me_? Your father left me because of you! I had to leave my career and start over, a new job, a new house, a new town- _that's _a burden, young lady. And all the trouble you got into at school! No wonder Mr. Giles is glad that it'll be over in a day or two. We're _all_ glad it'll be over soon. Who needs this kind of life, Buffy? You're crushing us all. Some hero. All I wanted was a normal girl.~_

"- we'll do something special to celebrate. A friends' thing, and then a special mommy-daughter thing. Oh, I know you think it's corny, but I'm going to insist!" Joyce laughed, forcing herself to sound brave.

_~Willow's been wonderful. Just the kind of daughter I always wanted. She's smart, beautiful, and she's so quiet and polite. She doesn't dress like a slut either. Her boyfriend might be a werewolf, but at least he's graduating high school. Her boyfriend didn't try to break into our house and murder us. Such a nice boy. Such a nice girl. You know, once you're gone for good, I think we'll do something special to celebrate. A friends' thing, and then a special mommy-daughter thing. Oh, I know you think it's corny, but I'm going to insist!~_

"Mom, please..." Buffy's voice broke. "I'm trying so hard to do everything I'm supposed to, but-."

"Oh, Sweetie. Buffy, you don't sound like yourself at all. I know you're scared. And you know what- I don't care what Mr. Giles says, I'm your mother. I can come get you. Just tell me where you are and I'll be there in a few hours." Joyce decided in a rebellious flash. Her daughter sounded so lost and so miserable, even with all the motherly positives she could offer her.

_~You're scared. I know what Mr. Giles said. He's right. You're a terrible burden and this waiting to die is just driving you crazy, making you so scared. I'm your mother. Tell me where you are, and I'll be there in a few hours.~ _

The drugs, the heightening of fear and paranoia distorted comforting words and changed them into something sinister. Buffy's heart froze over. Even her mother had turned against her. Had replaced her.

_But can you blame them? Every second you're alive is just putting them at risk. They have normal lives-_ they _aren't cursed. They're simply little flies, trapped in the web with you. The sooner you die, the sooner you can save them all. Isn't that the heroic thing to do?_

"I can take care of this myself, Mom. You stay safe. Get on with your life." Buffy requested hoarsely.

"Not until you're home. Sweetie, I know you're worried and you want to be brave and handle everything yourself, but sometimes you _do _need help. I'm worried about you trying to cope. Here, I'm going to let you talk to Xander," Joyce returned from her bedroom, and was met with three worried faces peering up the stairs, "while I talk to Mr. Giles."

* * *

"Hey, Buffster!" Xander eagerly took the phone as Joyce dragged Giles away by his cuff.

* * *

"She sounds weepy and stressed, and she is getting a serious crush on this older man who you've thrown her together with, and I don't think she's eating properly! She eats like a horse! I can't imagine she's cooking enough to keep her from getting rundown or sick!"

"I know you're concerned, as are we all, but she is the slayer, and as such has a finely tuned metabolism that-"

"She's a teenager! She can still get sick!" Joyce stamped her foot angrily, then let out a slow sigh. She spoke patiently, painfully. "I'm willing to accept that I don't know my daughter like I should. That she is more mature than I think, and stronger than I can understand."

"Yes. She is." Giles agreed with irritating calm.

"But she gets sick. She gets tired. She is used to having someone to help her, and so help me, Rupert Giles, if I find out that you ever did anything short of _everything_ to help my daughter- I will make vampires look like teddybears."

Rupert backed up, and then forward, standing nose to nose as he pulled his glasses off. "And if you ever doubt my loyalty to Buffy again, Joyce Summers- I will make you, in all your maternal fury, look like a mildly frustrated toddler." He stood back up, settled his glasses on his nose, and the air cooled.

Both adults coughed and smoothed their hair and clothes, as if being suddenly so threatening was a shameful secret they'd been caught sharing.

"She might have a fever. She had the flu so badly last spring, remember?" Joyce said in a concerned voice, as if nothing had happened.

"She has seemed a bit incoherent." Giles acted the same.

"Can they go to a doctor?"

"If it's an emergency. As it is, I'd like for her to try and remain in hiding for one more day at least. Going through towns, into offices, waiting in public places... It's simply exposing her more and more." He sighed. "We hope to have some definitive news on Travers by then, and if he's foiled, I can only hope his plan was as well." He paced once and then snapped his fingers. "I believe I put Tylenol in one of the first aid kits I packed for her. She can take some of that. I'll have Sp- have to speak to her about that. Rest and a little something to ease her to sleep. That'll have to suffice for another day."

"Well, she's strong."Joyce worriedly twisted her hands. "She'll be fine."

They were obsessing over what was most likely a minor cold or as Giles would say "Lady matters", and they both knew it. It stopped them from thinking, "Is this possibly her last day?" and the even more painful, "Am I doing the right thing?"

"She's very strong indeed." Giles coughed, and turned away.

* * *

"You just stay strong for like- twenty four hours, Buff. Be ready to kick some ass, and then haul ass! Right back home to us!" Xander played the perky denial of danger card. He'd played it a lot in the last three years. It was an essential card to pull in near death situations, which meant in his case- on a weekly basis. "Right, Buffy? Buff?"

"My mom likes that I'm gone." Buffy whispered, a hand to her head.

"Are you kidding? She's miserable. Okay, sure there's less monster crap when you're gone, but-"

"Xander!" Willow hissed. "Don't remind her that she's like a big demon magnet and stuff!"

"It's boring without you. We need you to come home, that's all I meant."

Buffy clutched the phone like a life preserver. She felt nauseous, and her breathing was uneven as she rambled out something grateful to her best friend. But at least his words were still lucid. At that moment. "I want to come home. I mean, even if everyone else is turning against me, you guys aren't."

"Turning against you? Turning against you? You're crazy. That's crazy talk!"

_~It's not that we're turning against you, Buffy. It's just that you turn us. No, really, it's you.~_

"Are you saying it's my fault?" Buffy yelped at Xander's words. Or, the words she had _heard_ him say.

"Fault? There's no fault."

_~Of course I am. Think about it. Angel- a vampire with a soul. The only one in the world, working for over a century with the inner hardware- two years with you and he's evil.~_

"Stop it!" Buffy wept.

"Stop what? What am I... Willow? Here." Xander passed her the phone and held up his hands defensively. "Not it! Seriously, it wasn't me, I swear. I mean, I think, I swear. Here, save me." He pushed her elbow up, shoving the phone against Willow's cheek.

Willow rolled her eyes and patted her best friend on the elbow. "Buffy?"

"It's not my fault people are after me! They want my power!"

"I know! We know. We _all_ know and Travers is a - is a- slimy stink bag." Willow agreed firmly. "Maybe we should try to cheer you up. I know you're homesick. Oooh, you could..."

Buffy didn't hear the cheerful, hopeful little voice prattling on, encouraging her. Instead, she heard the well-loved voice changing inside her head, becoming annoyed and louder.

_~I know they want your power. We _all _know they want your power. It's because you can't use it right. Seriously. I mean, you have an ancient mystical right bestowed to you- you die, you lose it, and then- you're back. And you doomed someone else to this life without even giving them your spot. So now you_ each_ have the power, and you'd think that'd be good, right? But no. Kendra shows up- and you get her killed, 'cause you know, you already turned Angel evil and he sent his minions to fight her. Then Faith shows up. You know, Faith was good before she met you. Sure, she was over the top, but she was _good._ Two months in town and she goes from slaying demons and defending humans to slaying humans and having demon-daddy issues and shacking up with the mayor to play Ascension tea party. What's up with you Buffy? I thought you were good.~_

"I am good!" Buffy wailed.

Willow blinked. "Um. Okay. Well it was just a suggestion. Microwave popcorn and a big cup of hot cocoa does it for me when I'm feeling mopey, but I guess I- I can't understand Buffy, what your'e going through. I'm sorry."

_~I'm sorry. It's just what you do. Giles was happy before you. _We _were happy before you. We were little nerds, fine, but at least we'd never been kidnapped or stalked before! No wonder they want you to die. You ruin everything you touch. You know- none of the other Slayers got everyone else on the 'about to die' list. They were unselfish enough not to put everyone at risk. But instead of you dying alone, like your fate says, now we can all play Assassination Roulette. Geez, Buffy, if you want to ruin lives, ruin your own.~_

By this time, Willow had stopped speaking, stopped trying to explain in her usually overly anxious way. Giles had demanded the phone back, and was speaking in a firm, fatherly tone.

"You're bound to be feeling the pressure right now. That's normal. You've held everything together so well."

"But- you just said the opposite." Buffy heard the change of voice clearly, although she was still reeling from her best friend's distorted words.

"Giles!" Willow hissed and tugged on his sleeve with worried, wounded setter eyes. "She's freaking out! You have to do something!"

_Well, honestly, what can I do?_ He pressed on bravely, with all the stodgy confidence he could muster, "Perhaps if you were to move to a new location for a few days? I hate to suggest it, but it is one option. And at the very least, take something to ease your pain and check to see if you're running a fever. We trust you'll do the right thing, Buffy. And we'll do exactly as you say. It's zero hour, and you are the Slayer. Just tell us what you need."

_~We trusted you. We believed you'd always do the right thing, to keep us safe. And here we are again- in your hands. Oh, we know how many you've led to their deaths. Good people, innocent people. You couldn't save them all.~_

Black and white chess pieces, bearing little faces of her lost friends and loved ones tilted and flipped in her mind's eye. _Pawns. I treat them like pawns, because I'm the queen, and it's all the game. And the game doesn't end until the queen's powerless. Dead. _

_~We'll do exactly as you say. Lead us to our deaths. You are the Slayer. Killing is in your nature.~_

A tiny voice, a voice that wasn't hers, nor was it a mockery of Giles', seemed to speak inside her ear, hinting, luring. _Sacrifice yourself. Spare them. Of course your'e afraid to die, but you're the hero, so -_

"I'm not afraid to die." Buffy whispered suddenly. Not true. But I'm less afraid of me dying then them.

Giles let out a single, wracked sob, that came out of nowhere, completely overwhelming him. "You are going to live. You might not be afraid of the alternative- but _we're_ all terrified." He whispered in a strangled voice.

She kept speaking, ignoring him. "You're right. I am the Slayer. I can do this. I'm not afraid. I don't hold back."

"Buffy what are you-"

"It's going to be okay. I- I need you to stay there. Promise me. Swear to me!"

"We'll stay, we'll stay!" Xander, Willow, Joyce, and Giles were all crowded round the phone, and exchanged worried glances as they swore.

"Sweetheart, if you-"

"Mom! Listen. All of you listen. Don't- don't come here. Don't call here. I'll handle everything. I know- why you feel like you feel." _Mad at me, disappointed in me, scared of me. Because I fail you. Over and over. It's all I've ever been scared of, losing you, losing your love, letting you down. And now I'm losing both, their love and their lives. I can save you. _"Whatever is going to happen up here, I can do it- myself. I want all of you to stay safe. An-and you don't have to call to check in."

A chorus of puzzled protests assailed her.

"But we always-"

"Buffy, we need to-"

"I think in this situation we must consider-"

"Guys! Mom, Giles, stop. I'll be- done soon. I love you. I love you so much."

Buffy disconnected the call. She felt like crying. She was crying, only she wasn't aware of it.

* * *

He was aware of her tears. A salt tang in the air that his sensitive nose picked up on. _Because I'm a master predator. _

_ Or because I'm standing outside the bloody door, three feet away._

"Buffy! Slayer, open up." Spike demanded. She didn't. "I'll come in anyway. This is me bein' polite first go round. Who knows why."

"Spike, I don't want you here." Buffy's voice was harsh and guttural, and made him back up a step.

Then his jaw set and he pushed the knob in. "Sorry, Sweetheart. I'm here. I'm not goin' anywhere."

Her drugged mind tried to change the words- yet somehow the simple phrase resonated too deeply in her. She didn't have long seated fears of losing him, losing his love or respect, so her heightened sense of paranoia and fear had little to work with. Her senses tried the cry of "vampire!" but her inner Slayer was still strong enough to register a contemptuous "Spike? Oh, puh-lease."

"I'm not going anywhere." Spike repeated as she stared at him vacantly.

"You aren't, are you?" She used the wall to push herself up.

"No. I'm not. So..." He shrugged as nonchalantly as possible, "what's goin' on?"

"In two days- I should be dead. Two days or so. That was yesterday. In _one_ day or so, I should be dead, if you're following along at home, folks. And if my friends come up here-"

"Oh bloody fuck, no! No, no, no, I can't deal with them. In the same town maybe, but in this little cabin? There's only one room, for Chrissakes, an' I -"

"I told them to stay safe. Not to come. Not to call."

"Not to call?" Spike caught her forearm as she staggered a little bit. "That makes no sense. This whole time you've been goin' on about how little you get to be with the lot of 'em an' now. You live for those bleedin' calls, and-"

"Well, I'm not living for that now. I- I've got to be focused. On what I need to do."

Spike looked at her hard. Her face was determined, and that was something familiar and expected at least. "Alright. Good start. What about the rest of it?"

"Rest of what?"

"A plan. You're not the only one here."

Buffy blinked. _Yes, I am. Isn't that what they were saying? No matter what friends you think you have, you're actually on your own when it comes down to dying?_ The figure in front of her blurred out again.

Unfortunately for Travers, her sense of touch couldn't blur out the feel of his hand on her arm. "Two against whatever." He chuckled.

"I can handle this myself." _You _can _die alone. I actually had a dry run. Once. _Red eyes and white bat-like face, oblivion... _Maybe this is hell and I never came back to life._

_ If this is hell- he wouldn't have said he loved me. I must be alive. For now. _

"Well, of course you can handle it," Spike rolled his eyes, "you can handle an army, but if some demon comes in, snarlin' an' drippin' blood an' bile, you aren't gonna ask me to sit on the sidelines are you?" He pouted at her. "Hardly a way to treat ol' Spike."

"Wh-what?" Buffy blinked, trying to untangle her silent, dark thoughts from his boisterous voice.

"If some beasty is comin' to get you in a day's time, I'll still be here. I'm not jus' gonna sit around and applaud politely when you bring me his head. Might be more than one. Last time there was five. We could get a dozen this time. If we're lucky." He punched her arm, and she fell into the wall. "Steady on your feet, Luv." He quickly pulled her upright.

"I'm good." Buffy gasped, and latched onto him anyway. _If they do come- and I'm already gone- they'll still hurt Spike. He's my friend. My lover, he loves me. And I- yeah. I do. He's caught in the web now. Only he's already here and I can't get him away. I can't even fight him. I wouldn't win. We can only take it to a draw, we've tried so many times..._

Her earlier unease around him was mitigated by his penetrating gaze and the words that even a fickle consciousness couldn't shake. _He'll still be here. Not leaving. _She squared her shoulders with a subtle effort. "We don't have a plan. Well- we do. Kill them. Kill every last one."

His jeans tightened slightly. "Oh, yeah, baby, right into the ground, six soddin' feet under." He bucked against her and his lips curled as he pulled her closer.

"Spike- stop." She pushed against his chest feebly.

"No. No, Buff, look. I know you're scared, but we can't fight everything. Why fight this- between us?"

_~There's a fight between us.~_

_ So what? There's always been a fight between us. We always have a truce between us these days, too. _

"I'm- I'm not fighting you."

"Good." He nodded once, confidently, then his voice seemed to falter a little. "'Cause, whatever happens- y'know. I said it the other night. I meant it." His voice gathered steam, plowing on, "Even if you don't mean it, or ever say it, I bloody well said it and -"

"I love you." Buffy succeeded in breaking away from his grip and tripping past him, as he stared after her, gobsmacked.

_I love him. I love all of them. I'll wait until they show. And then- _Buffy let out a shaky breath._ I can handle the rest._

With that, Buffy stumbled to her room and fell into a deeply troubled sleep, a dream that wouldn't break or even let up assaulting her.

* * *

She kept walking into different rooms. Different scenes.

Angelus smirking. Giles lying bloody and beaten. Ms. Calendar's funeral. Her mother tied to a chair. Willow tied to a stake. Angel disappearing into Acathla's portal. Xander's heartbroken face as he stood over Willow's unconscious body- and- and she didn't even know which day that was on. That was the problem. The nightmare became worse and worse, corkscrewing out of control until there was nothing but failure and near death all around her- and at last-

The ultimate fear. Not vampires.

Becoming one.

A broad smooth back with an intricate tattoo. She felt herself no longer looking at the scene, but part of it. Her hands laced onto shoulders, pulling this man inside her, letting him tear into her softest piece of flesh- and too late realizing he was also tearing into her throat.

"No! No, not like this, it wasn't like this!" She protested. The head lifted from the carnage of her neck and chocolate eyes met her own panicked ones.

"Oh, Buff. It was always like this. You can't trust anyone, don't you know that?" Angel smiled down on her draining body.

"But, you had a soul. I loved you."

"Ha. That's sweet, kiddo. But a soul doesn't mean you're good. It means you're more human, and trust me, humans are plenty bad. Especially the ones you've gotten ahold of."

"What do you mean, the ones I've gotten ahold of? I've never 'gotten ahold of' anyone!" Buffy felt tears sliding down her cheeks, blood sliding down her neck, but Angel, the man who was supposed to love her forever, laughed mockingly.

"You- you bring out the bad in all of us." The laughter died abruptly, and he gave her an icy gaze. "In _all_ of us."

Dying, ashamed, naked, and bloody, she realized she was no longer alone with Angel or Angelus.

They were ringing her bed, all of them with grave, accusatory faces. Cold faces, dead faces in some cases, living in others, the four most trusted people in her life and the other essential people in her life, Faith, Cordelia, Oz, a dozen others she felt close to or at least remembered painfully well. "The bad in all of us." They chorused.

"I never meant to-"

"You tried to be so good." Angel pulled on a black robe, leaving her alone on the rapidly staining sheets.

All of them were there- but leaving her.

"The bad in all of us. Ruined us. We were good. You failed us. Bad things happened to us."

The chanting never stopped, never even gave her a second's respite before the scenes shifted and tossed her into yet another nightmare she couldn't escape from.

Her heart and brain were pounding and pulsing. She let out one soft scream in her sleep.

Spike didn't hear her.

* * *

The air was clear, the sky was dark, and a warm breeze managed to alleviate the chill of the mountains for a few minutes.

Spike wouldn't have cared if it was pouring killer whales and zombies in a monsoon. It was a glorious night in his opinion and nothing would change that.

He frolicked. He whistled. He played air guitar. He shot a running doe and patted it on the head before drinking it dry and then thanked it for the lovely meal as he wiped his mouth and capered away.

_Because she loves me too. She's asleep now, she'll rest up, be ready to kick some demon's arse, and I'll jolly well kick it with her. And she loves me. Loves me. I love her. _Another high energy riff was played to the soundtrack running through his head. For a moment.

_It'll all blow up in our faces. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week._

_ Who cares? She loves me._

He went back to the house in much less time than usual. He had to be with her. protect her. Lie beside her.

_She's mine after all. Confused and freakin', and all the rest- mine._

An uncomfortable flash of hidden memory tapped on his shoulder- and he ignored it as usual. But it wouldn't leave him alone this time.

_You know she's not herself. _

_ I know I love her however she is._

_ Yeah. That's the point, idiot. You love her. HOW. SHE. _IS_. So why're you lookin' so hard to change the other one, the one you were with for a century, the one you claimed to love eternally?_

_ Because Dru's crazy! She's mental, she's a bat short of a cricket match, she's- she's broken. And I want to fix her. So she'll be at peace._

_ Because I love her._

_ Bollocks._

* * *

_Day Twenty Four..._

Collins put down the night vision binoculars and sighed. The digital time stamp in the corner of his lens made it just after zero hour. Midnight. The poison should have made its way into her system in some form, at least once, if not twice or three times in twenty four hours. How could he tell how fast this was working, if it was working at all, without setting eyes on the girl? He couldn't very well stay out here all night.

Lest he be called in for dereliction of duty, he prepared his explanation as he walked the three miles back to his car.

The vampire and Slayer were all over these woods when he was here before, although the vampire doesn't seem to be straying too far from the nest tonight. nonetheless, best to be cautious. A passing hiker they might ignore. A lone camper, set up in their perimeter- would be dinner. His own personal safety was not paramount in his mind, no, but if he died before the Slayer did, the mission had failed.

_Travers will just have to be patient and wait for word. He told me not to report until it was done, so report I mustn't._

If he didn't see obvious signs of her deterioration by tomorrow evening, he'd have to find a way to slip her the second does of poison. Whether it made her fall over the precipice of madness or not- it would overload her system and kill her in and of itself.

Either way- a job well done. One more piece of evil, traitorous evil, out of the world.

* * *

"You bring out everything bad. There aren't slayers because there are vampires, it's the other way around. You draw them to you. You put everyone at risk." Cordelia told her in her dream. "You know, this was a nice town. Then _you_ came along. What, you think you're some big savior? You're just a freak."

"I'm -I'm not."

"You turn towns bad. You even turn people bad, B." Faith licked cherry black lips and leaned on a sneering Angel. "An atonement junkie and a fellow Slayer. Man. And they thought _we_ were evil." She looked into Angel's eyes with a sarcastic smirk.

"No. No, please, I didn't mean to." Buffy was trapped back in the same room again, a large bed inside a larger ring of people.

"It's why you must be punished. Removed!" Travers suddenly loomed over her, making her whimper and draw back, sleeping muscles in a frenzy of spasming convulsions. "You disgraced your noble lineage! From top to bottom- corruption! You must die!"

"I'm leaving! I'm leaving, I'm going, I just need to find the way out!" She screamed at them, all of them, twisting in a tangle of sweat soaked blankets.

* * *

Spike paused on the stairs from the attic, a retrieved jar of peanut butter, already a third empty, and crusted spoon dangling in his hand. "Buffy?"

"Out!" A faint, muffled sob reached his ears. He dropped the remains of her snack and ran to the bedroom.

"Hey. Hey!" Spike shook her and when that didn't work, he panicked and slapped her full across the face.

* * *

Buffy coughed and gasped awake. "Spike!" She swallowed. Her eyes were frantically darting, and her pulse pounded so that her head was splitting. She ran her hands through her hair, feeling for the droplets of blood that must be seeping from her torn forehead.

_Nothing. Clean hands. Only my hands are so dirty._

"Slayer, you had a nightmare. Just an old buggaboo in dreamland." Spike was surprised when she fell into his arms, against his chest. He was more surprised when she started to sob.

"I lied. I lied." She choked out.

"Lied? About?" his heart throbbed warningly, preparing for the pain of the stab it was about to receive.

"I'm scared. I am." _I don't want to die. I want to fix it. Please, God, somebody, show me another way out a way to save them- and myself._

Spike blinked. Coughed._ Dammit. Truth wins over comforting lies_. "We're both scared."

"Wh-why?" Buffy looked at him suspiciously. Where had he been in this so called dream? Was it a dream or not? She couldn't honestly say.

"Scared you'll get hurt, you little blonde twit." He frowned.

Buffy smiled for a brief second, but it was like the match thrown on a gasoline soaked bonfire. He smiled back, broad and wide and sincere, smile reaching into his eyes and coming out in a suddenly warmer voice. "You're mine. I- you know I care about you. I have your back."

"Say it." Buffy whispered desperately.

"I did. I can't keep sayin' this, Slayer, it's only gonna make it harder for me when we- aren't ..."

_When I'm gone. But he doesn't think I'm dying. He thinks we're leaving each other. We are. I guess we are. One way or another._ "I'll say it. I- love you." She flinched. Every other figure, real or imagined, had thrown her words back in her face that day. At least, that's what her disorder mind told her.

She felt him shift, lunge, and she stifled a scream. This was the dream, this was the ultimate fear, after letting her loved ones down, watching them die- watching herself die and live on. A vampire.

But he wasn't biting.

_Spike did bite me before. It was so good. He's so good to me...This is only kissing. _

"I love you, of course I do. Dammit, why'd you do this to me?"

"I didn't mean to." She whimpered as her legs parted around his knee, her trembling frame lost itself in clinging to his solid, unyielding one.

"Me either. We're in it together though." He wrapped her up in his arms and smothered her in his kisses.

For an hour or two- comforted and strengthened, distracted and loved, Buffy was able to rise above the poisons she'd been fed. She was still weaker, but she was lucid.

Unfortunately, in that brief period of time, Buffy wasn't able to understand what had happened, the chilling, debilitating fear and guilt, strange visions and the dozens of thoughts that didn't add up. All she knew was that someone loved her, and had not abandoned her.

* * *

She sank into sleep, still bundled in his arms, his essence inside her, his love bites, but not actual bites, dotting her skin. He said they'd have to take turns keeping watch soon, starting at dawn. But for now, they had one more night of sleeping in each other's arms.

It really is the last night, Buffy thought, as she let her eyelids droop.

* * *

The dreams began again. Distorting words, distorting events until again she was naked and bitten, lying on some bed-slash-funeral pyre, dying, waiting to turn, being cast out of life, and her soul lost as well- utterly damned.

Her accusers were there, totaling her sins, making her into a small cowering ball that couldn't find the strength to fight.

"Everything you've touched you've ruined." Giles told her gravely, and he shut a heavy book with a disappointed frown. "You see, it really is the best way, to begin afresh."

"But- I've saved the world. So many times..."

"Sloppily. At great expense." Jenny Calendar, neck bent at a horrid angle, peered at her with clouded black eyes.

"If only there was something you could show them." Willow whispered, leaning on Joyce affectionately. "But there just isn't. Even the town- sure it isn't being ruled by a big mean dino demon, but you did kill a bunch of kids doing it."

"I have to make choices!" Buffy put her head in her hands and wept.

* * *

In her sleep, Spike's arm tightened. He felt her struggle and he placed his head to her back, spooning her from a few inches lower, pressing a sleeping kiss to her spine.

* * *

_He's there. There is something you can show them._

"Not if your dead, Buff." Angel leaned over her, and peered between her clenched fingers to make eye contact. "Your heart is slowing... slowing... your breath is already gone. Whatever you were gonna say is just going to have to wait until you're one of the family." Yellow eye winked at her and then left her, sinking into the coldness of death, of vampirism, her fears descending on her.

"Oi. Since she's asleep- I'll tell you." Spike appeared out of nowhere, sauntering in casually as if arriving fashionably late to a party he was crashing.

"He's evil! He's a bad vampire!" Joyce shouted at the ring of specters in this nightmare drama.

"Ah ah ah." Spike held up a hand with a cocksure smile, and eased himself into bed beside Buffy. "Shove up, Slayer."

Buffy, paralyzed, watched the dream figure slide in on his side, and smile around the room. "Turns everything bad does she? Wanting her to find one bad thing she turned good?"

"You're not good, Spike." Angelus glowered.

"Nope. Evil. But I'm turned to the side of good. And I will fight for that side, for as long as she asks me to."

"One bad penny invested well does not a fortune make." A crisp, prim Wesley chided.

"I know. But this bad penny can sure as hell run, hide, and take on you sorry sacks." Spike lifted her prone figure up, and her eyes opened. "You're still in here, Luv."

I am. I am in here until it's over. It isn't over yet. "We- can't fight this." Buffy gasped, struggling for air.

"Are you sure? I've saved the world with you. You honestly think we can't save one little life? Psshh." He pursed his lips at her. "Airhead."

"Spike!" Buffy focused on him for a second, and gelt her fear melting slowly.

"We can kick their sorry asses!"

"It's not them Spike, it's me, it's what I'm doing that's- that's killing me."

"Bloody hell, Slayer, for every 'bad' thing you've done, you've done a million more good things. And if you need to tip the scale, well- there's me."

_The bad in us. The bad in us. _The chant had begun again, but Spike's whisper outshone it. "The good in us. The good in us, Baby. We're strange, we're rule breakers, but we can out fight any evil in the universe. That good enough for you?"

Buffy considered. Nodded. Swallowed. "It is."

"You heard the lady! Beat it!"

Figures faded, but held in shaded forms, crowding her dreaming mind. "You better tell 'em, Cutie. It's your dream after all." Spike reclined on the bloodstained bed and lit up, blowing smoke rings in the air with a careless huff.

_He knows I can handle it. I can do it. I can end it all. I can end this. Now._ "Leave. Me._ Alone_." Buffy ordered.

* * *

She shuddered once in her sleep, and her system kickstarted. The powerful Slayer metabolism, the powerful mind in control of it- they began to work overtime, and fought the poison off- at least for a few hours. The exhausted girl settled into her lover's cool arms, feverish and grateful for his skin's relief. Temporarily at peace, she slept, deeply and soundly, until the sun was high above their cabin.

* * *

That day, Buffy was more lucid. Quiet, calmer, and wary, but not so afraid. They took turns keeping watch and patrolled the perimeter in the afternoon. They stayed close to each other, showered together, dressed together, ate together, although they ate different things.

"I think I just had a bad fever." Buffy murmured when Spike pressed her about it.

"You were awfully warm. Sweatin' all night too. An' you didn't smell the same." Spike grinned crookedly.

"Are you saying I stink?" Buffy pretended to be extremely offended.

"Not anymore. You showered." He ducked a piece of cheese and smiled fully. "C'mon, time to check the perimeter. An' you better bulk up, Slayer, that cheese could've been thrown by an arthritic mouse."

Buffy drained her glass of milk and stuffed half of her PB&J in her mouth, grumbling and following him outside in the setting sun. "I'm eating, okay? I'm eating and I totally took Tylenol! I'm not so woozy and achey. Are you happy?" She called after him.

* * *

Collins was. She sounded coherent and active, which was not what he expected. He skidded silently, ran in a crouch, and hightailed it back towards his car after getting his first glimpse of the target in days.

However, he knew she had felt weak and sore, and that she was eating. _She won't sound so perky for long._

* * *

He was right. Within a few hours, Buffy was worse. Much worse.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	25. Chapter 25

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Still working with a concoction of fear/paranoia inducing poison and the hallucination producing toxins used in "Normal Again." We've got long confusing dreams/ visions that play on Buffy's worst fears and her guilt- all trying to push her to the point where she snaps. In addition, she's beginning to hear and see things that are not there. (Not the same as "twisted words" where Buffy is talking to actual people but hearing false things.) So in a nutshell- if you feel disoriented, confused, frustrated- you're feeling what she feels on a smaller scale. We're almost done with that atmosphere now!_

_**Author's Second Note**__: Okay, a lot of people are giving Spike flack for not realizing in the last chapter that something is wrong with Buffy. I've been able to respond to some of you, but to put this out there: Even though the chapters are pretty long, the poison has only been in her system for a day and a half. Readers have to remember 90% of all the madness seen in the previous chapter was in Buffy's __**head**__. The disturbing words and images are in her head. Spike can't see it. He can't hear her dreams, and she hasn't been unable to communicate the frantic unease and mistrust she's having. Spike being in love with a complete nutter for a hundred years probably has left him slightly unfazed in regards to a few mood swings or some withdrawing. I hope that helps readers understand why Spike has not immediately figured out the problem._

_Author's Third Note: Slight smuttiness._

_Dedicated to the best, the most awesome, the incomparable : Skeezixx, Ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, micmoc, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, Touch the Dark, hbmckidd, ValidescopeWest, Rachel, Alottalove, Cavementftw, ammuna, marty powell, Sanity Fair, NausicA, Twotoe, Seapea, Maire Ailbhe, Illusera, ShyL, mike13z50, Loverswalk89, KittenofDoomage, and darkeyesgirl._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XXV**

_Day Twenty Four (Late evening, London time)_

"You have no right to hold me." Travers smiled complacently as two burly sergeants at arms escorted him to stand before the panel of board members after the last of the evidence had been presented.

"We assuredly can. Your recorded conversations-"

"Idle talk. Two frustrated men with an irresponsible and unworthy child unable to shoulder the burdens of her destiny. It's not the first time that's happened. Additionally, Wyndham-Pryce the younger is also an equal party to those 'conversations'. Why is he not on trial?"

"As we've already said," Fallows looked over the rims of his glasses sternly, "he informed us of the conversations. He has already provided testimony."

"But he was on site. He had motive. He had opportunity. Why isn't _he_ on trial, or whatever you call this insubordinate mockery?"

Murmurs broke out and ran softly around the makeshift court.

Fallows rose. "Perhaps he will be. But this is your chance to provide evidence to support your innocence against all the information we've presented. For the removal of the _Book of Summonings_-"

"I needn't ask the Head Librarian for every little thing." Travers waved carelessly.

"The transference of funds, from your account to Mr. Collins' account. mr. Collins' who is suddenly and conveniently unreachable."

"It is at my discretion, is it not? A gift to a faithful employee to assist with an ailing family member's medical bills. Coincidences all, Fallows."

"The traces you ordered placed on Mr. Giles' passport?"

Travers' lips thinned momentarily. "He is not to be trusted."

The room went quiet again.

"Why is that?" Fallows asked softly. It was the first thing Travers had shown any response to, the only time his calm mask seemed to waver.

"A father's love for her. Teaching her his disobedient ways. Allowing her to show a- a _mutinous_ attitude to this Council. _This_ _Council_, Gentlemen! Has such a thing ever happened before? Before Summers and Lehane? No! No, I say it did not! The disorderliness and the- the _shunning_ of our leadership is unfathomable. It is unforgivable! We are the ones who control the Slayer and without that control we have a loose, misguided cannon! We have anarchy!"

Travers blinked as he stopped speaking abruptly. This rousing speech had not garnered the reaction he'd hoped. His loyal followers were staring at him, most with frowns, as if they'd been looking at beautiful piece of fruit, and suddenly seen it crawling with maggots. Disgust. Surprise. Worry. "I- I don't trust Rupert Giles for filling Buffy Summers' head with that sort of wayward thinking." He concluded with a single, stuffy cough.

"You said very little about Mr. Giles, and a great deal about your opinion of our most recently chosen Slayers. You fired Rupert Giles. What did you intend to do with Ms. Summers? One cannot 'fire' a Slayer. Her calling is from the heart of the universe, and can never be reversed."

There was a pause that lasted just a little too long. "Retrain her."

"How?" Fallows spoke before Travers' mouth had even closed, hot on his heels him now.

"Have her brought under my personal tutelage if necessary!"

"And if that failed?" It was another voice now, asking what others were thinking.

"It would not fail! How could it fail? Are we not the Watchers? They are ours to command!"

The hush was absolute and uncomfortable. They had all thought that at one point or another. They had the training, the skills, the ability to teach what there was no possible way to prepare for, and yet they had done it for centuries._ We make Slayers out of frightened girls._

_But what happens when they are no longer those frightened girls, dependent on us? _

_ We rarely find out, or get to observe for long. Summers had survived the Cruciamentum. Defied her new Watcher. Turned her old one into her fiercest defender. Made alliances that caused grown men to tremble. Stopped not one, not two, but three world-ending or world-shattering events._

_ She is the best we've ever had. _

_ She's the only one he couldn't control._

Young Harbin broke the stillness. "Sounds as though you didn't have a contingency plan for someone who wouldn't follow orders, Sir."

"No." Fallows corrected sadly. "It sounds as if he did. Everyone but the Board leave, please. We'll inform you of our decision in due course."

The room cleared, and Travers remained pinioned between two burly guards, rumpling his suit, the cheek of it. "I am still the Head of this Council until you produce concrete proof, which you have not, and therefore I claim this proceeding be put to a vote before this lunacy continues. All those in favor of declaring this a simple series of unfortunate miscommunications and returning to business as normal, nothing lost but one day, raise your hands."

It was tempting. Tempting to go back to the familiar world and the familiar channels. This bold offensive against a trusted leader made a majority of the governing body feel ill at ease.

Yet no one dared to raise their hands.

"You will be given into the custody of the Council until we can reach Mr. Collins. If he verifies that the fund transference was a simple gift- as you claim, and states that you have not sent him off to investigate Ms. Summers whereabouts, possibly with the intent to injure,_ and_ we interview his ailing uncle, we will call this a mistrial and offer our humblest apologies. And I'm sure you'll accept them, and praise us for our thoroughness in the investigation of matters concerning our sacred duty."

There was a battle of ridged brows and lined faces, pale eyes, equally hard.

"Of course." Travers said through gritted teeth, but in a tone that dripped liquid nitrogen.

"As it is, you are stripped of your powers as Head of Council for the next seventy two hours." Fallows shut the heavy leather bound book he'd continuously consulted during the hearing.

"Three days! Even in France- beastly country- you're only allowed to be held for two!" Travers cried with quiet fury. "I would say anything over one day is archaic."

"This is the Watchers' Council. We are archaic in may ways, and there are certain rituals and procedures that take time, spells and calling forth operatives from all over the world. Three days." Fallows swallowed. "Take him to his new accommodations."

* * *

"I know we have cells in case something nasty breaks through the wards, or in case someone goes round the twist on duty... But I hardly think they could stick Travers in one." Ginny took Robson's arm as they left the building late that night. "How come they couldn't decide_ tonight_? It's making me nervous. Everyone's staring at us." She leaned heavily on her fiancé.

"Let 'em look. We'll have our picture in the archives soon." Abby lit up eagerly once they cleared the building.

"As traitors or heroes?" Ginny snapped.

"Now, Darling it's just not as simple to prove as we'd like to think .There are thousands of threats a person can make, and if no one acts on them- well, we can hardly punish them for it."

"But he did act on it! He sent those-"

"Shhh! Not here."

Robson began speaking in an overly loud voice, for the benefit of anyone listening in in the shadows, "Even if he was perfectly innocent, as he is until the proof is solidified, he might just resign. Sure, all this could be boiled down to coincidence and idle plotting-"

"In what tit-brained universe, mate?" Abby demanded, eyebrows raising skeptically.

"-but his authority will ever be in question now. If it were me, I would resign."

"Oh he'll never resign." Ginny fretted. "He would stay on, in all the whispers and sideways looks, just to make our lives a living hell."

"What lives?" Abby snorted derisively. His friends faltered in their steps and her offered, as he had earlier, "Pub?"

* * *

_Day Twenty Four (Pacific Time)_

He sipped from his flask as he watched her. She walked alone in the sunset, for once without her undead mate. From nearly a half-mile away, perched high in a wide fork of a tree, Collins trained the high powered binoculars on her.

She was a pale, sweating shadow of the girl he'd seen a few days ago, but still walking under her own steam, and there were no outward sign of her being the slavering, fear crushed lunatic who'd off herself and finish the job, as Travers had led him to believe. He thought longingly of his gun. He allowed himself to trace the holster on his calf. A single bullet in the temple- no, with a Slayer's reflexes, she'd hear the bullet coming, duck it in all likelihood.

Then he could see her easily following the bullet back to its source, a half mile would be only a minute for her. He swallowed. He was used to dealing with humans lacking in super powers, and also working as part of a team, usually one of three.

Travers plan to take out the highly dangerous rogue was best.

_ Got to get another dose into her somehow. This isn't working fast enough..._

* * *

Buffy was dragging herself slowly along, taking her turn doing the sweep of the perimeter, while Spike circled the other way, always within ear shot. At least that was what she'd left the cabin knowing.

However, as soon as she was alone, she felt like she was utterly alone. Then as though she were surrounded.

Figures popped out from behind trees, making her gasp, and then vanishing. She ran. She knew they were after her and she ran blindly and wildly, deeper into the forest... only to the outside observer she was merely stumbling along, panting hard and wild-eyed.

She didn't realize that. She just knew she had to get away from them, as fast as she could.

_"We're coming for you. And when night falls... that's your time isn't it? It's our time, too."_ A white wrinkly face and blood red eyes loomed over her shoulder and she bit her lip to keep from screaming, instead running faster. _"I killed you once! I can do it again!"_

_Turn and fight him! You destroyed him. Twice! That puts you in the lead. Turn and fight him! _

_"Why fight the Master again? Or is this your day for repeats? You gonna fight me, too, Buff?"_

"Angel?" Buffy heard his voice and spun. There was nothing there, nothing except a few trees, thought that wasn't what she saw.

_"Over here. He's with me." Faith leaned seductively against him. "If you kill him again, I get first dibs at breaking your sweet, little, good girl face, B."_

_"Good? Heavens, are we back to calling her good?" Giles polished his sword as he calmly followed her. _

"Giles?" Her Watcher had materialized as well.

_"Hullo, Buffy. I'm the back up." He smiled sadly at her and joined the procession of figures chasing her, following her._

_Run. Run faster, run farther. No, run back to the house before night is here. I have just a couple minutes before the sun is really down. _She cut wildly to the left, and used a final burst of speed to out maneuver her pursuers.

_"You can't really run from _me_, though." _

She smacked into thin air, but to her rapidly failing eyes, she'd run into a young woman. Blonde, pale, pretty, smiling coldly. _"I'll always be with you. And I'll never let you forget all the times you failed. All the ones you let die. All the people you hurt. The life you ruined." _

"But- but you're- you're-" Buffy stammered and stepped back, looking anxiously over her shoulder, trapped between a train of ghostly figures and the unflinching one before her.

_"Don't you recognize me?"_ The mirror image reached out for her and pulled her close._ "It's me. It's _you_. Buffy Summers. The normal girl. You killed me." _

"No. No, you know that's not true, you know we were never-"

_"Shhhh." Something glinted in the last rays of sunlight, long, thick, silver blade, flashing in her hand._ _"It's fine. I'm here to return the favor."_

A long shriek echoed through the woods.

* * *

"No!" He knew splitting up was a bad idea, knew it, knew it, _knew it! _But she seemed to be deep in her own mind, and given all the extreme togetherness of late, he didn't see anything unusual about her wanting to put on her Big Slayer boots and strike off on her own for a bit._ Yeah well. No more of that. That's apparently stupid. And might've gotten her hurt. Fucking idiot, why do you listen to her?_

Spike jumped fallen logs and skidded on pine needles, vamping as he flew over the ground. "Get away from her!" He was roaring before he could even see her.

When he could see her- his whole world stopped. It literally froze. He remembered his own heartbeat with painful clarity, because for one second it was as though he felt something inside him that had been ticking away completely die, break, utterly fail.

"NO!" He tore over to the still form on the litter of dirt and leaves, sliding the last few feet on his knees, clawing and pawing to her, grabbing her roughly as his eyes searched and his senses streaked out, searching for foes.

She was alive. She was alive and blinking up at him with terrified green eyes as his hands dragged her across his knees and cradled her head. "Slayer! Buffy!" He harshly demanded.

"Where is she?" Buffy struggled up.

He didn't answer, hugging her too hard to think of words, or anything except the fact that the body on the ground wasn't a "body". "You're okay... you're fine, jus' fine, Slayer."

"They're gone?" Buffy tugged herself free, looking behind them and around them with worried, unfocused eyes.

"Who? How many?"

"All of them. All of them are here." Buffy rose with his help. "But they're gone. I'm gone."

Spike stood next to her, arm under hers and scanned the area with her. "Must've been somethin' special. I can't smell anything. Well, can smell one human scent, but that'll be a ranger. Smelled that same smell when our food was delivered last time. He's far away too. Real faint." His nostrils flared.

"It wasn't a ranger." Buffy insisted, and jumped when an owl hooted to greet the freshly fallen darkness. "We need to get inside. NOW."

"Alright. Good plan."

He didn't feel her shaking. He was shaking too badly himself. They walked quickly, each unknowingly supporting the other until they were back inside the house.

* * *

Once inside, windows shut and locked, damaged door double dead bolted, Spike could feel his muscles unclench, and his panic-stricken mind begin to crank slowly. "Right. How many? What kind of demons? Did they use something to knock you out? Did you see 'em appear, disappear, did you-"

"Vampires. And humans. Me."

"Okay, vampires, humans, an' you. How'd they -"

"I don't think we can fight the humans." Buffy sank down in a wobbly ball on the floor in front of the unlit fireplace. _Not Giles anyway_. "Or any of them. They just kept coming. And some of them were dead, so..." She put her head in her hands. "But they can't get us in here."

Spike nodded, and slowly approached her, treading carefully. "Slayer... you feel okay?"

"No. I think I'm going to barf." Buffy looked up and found him sinking to his knees beside her, penetrating blue eyes meeting momentarily clear green.

"They scared you real good, Baby." He murmured, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. Working up to her neck softly, cupping her tense muscles, watching her melt against his touch. "Show me where they hurt you."

She lifted her shirt and ran fingertips over her stomach. "Like I did to Faith- only... I didn't do it this time. I had the knife, but I- didn't do it this time." Words came out haltingly and she ran her hands over her pockets and over her unmarked skin. "I must have dropped it."

He nodded silently, his hands going up, under her hair now, feeling for bumps. "Slayer, what'd these people look like? Gimme somethin' to go on."

_I can't betray Giles. Not more than I already have! Faith is in a coma and I put her there and- hey. Faith is in a coma. How the hell did she go walking through the woods if she's in a coma? I guess she could be better, but how'd she find me? _

Her mind did an unpleasant, blurring spin, and she had the sensation of the sudden drop on a roller coaster as reality and madness collided. "I think I'm gonna barf." Buffy repeated, and bolted.

Spike stayed on his knees, heard the sounds of violent retching and water running, then gargling.

His hands shook as he pressed them to his knees to push himself up. His boots seemed to echo in the hall as he walked slowly to the bathroom.

_I don't think she saw anyone. I don't think she had a knife. I think we lost it with those other demons, but I could be wrong... But mainly- _he opened the door, just in time to see Buffy look at the mirror above the sink, see her own reflection and punch her fist through the glass with a curse, "I think you're sick, Luv."

She let out a whimper and held out a sliced set of knuckles. "I don't know how she got in here."

"Me, either." Spike whispered, and hugged her close. "I don't know either, Baby."

* * *

He felt so good. So solid. And even though her stomach was still heaving and her hand was throbbing, she felt better. She sighed against him and swallowed several times. "Woo. That was weird."

"Yeah. That was-" _Crazy. Mad. Did she punch _herself _in the mirror?_ "What'd you see?"

"Hm? When?" Buffy looked up at him, eyes clouding once, then brightening. "Saw what?"

He turned abruptly. "Where's the damn first aid kit?" He turned back around. "Wash your hand, keep it in water and -an' don't _move_."

Buffy washed him stalk off, and shook her head. With less poison in her system at the moment, all she could recall was the feeling of people stalking her, knowing she was unsafe, knowing not to trust anyone.

_Not even me_. Her skin prickled and she avoided looking at the shards of mirror remaining in the frame, though this time it was more of an eerie "feeling" not direct knowledge which kept her from looking.

_But Spike's okay. He's the only one I can feel safe with. _She shivered._ Nothing is safe. _

_ Not even me. _

A puzzled frown seemed to be permanently etched on her face._ Why do I keep thinking that?_

* * *

_She shakes like a leaf. She fainted. She _must've_ fainted, not a mark on her._ Spike ransacked one of the first aid kits for gauze and antiseptic cream. _Vomiting. Was that from nerves and fear or from sickness? _He'd seen plenty of people lose their lunch when they were scared. Scared shitless was also a really appropriate term. He normally would have found time for a coarse chuckle, but not this night.

"Jackpot." He grabbed a handful of items from the kit that had somehow made its way into the kitchen - probably during the aftermath of the steak and French toast fire.

Spike shouldered his way into the bathroom, and found her leaning heavily on the sink, hand under the water. "Hey."

"Hey." She smiled wearily up at him- then looked anxiously at his hands. "What's that?" She asked suspiciously.

"Thermometer, bandage, anti- anti something cream, the label's melted off, must've got it too close to the flames the other day, an' Tylenol."

"Why?" Buffy backed away from his hands as he emptied them.

" 'Cause you busted your hand, Genius." He growled harshly and snatched her wrist.

Buffy yelped, in spite of her implicit feeling that Spike wouldn't hurt her, and tried to pull back.

_Oh bugger, look at her._ Spike really did look, as in stare, at her as her fingertips weakly cleared his. It took every ounce of muscle she had, but she managed it, knocking herself backwards, landing on the edge of the tub with a thud, tumbling backwards. He snagged her just in time to keep her from falling in. "Buffy..." He knelt and looked into her eyes, clear eyes, "you're sick."

_He knows... He knows... _

"Stop it!" Buffy snapped at the whispering in her head.

"No!" Spike grunted and raised her bleeding hand to his chin, sniffing. That faint tang of something. Something not unfamiliar, just very potent. Something he caught whiffs of all the time, but this was _saturating_ her blood. _Fear._ His nostrils flared once more, and his tongue began poking out- and he found his chin suddenly stinging from a quick jab.

"Don't bite me!" Buffy shouted, rising. Then falling, hand clasped protectively to her chest.

"Never, Slayer, never gonna hurt you. Got a deal. Got a truce. I'm your partner I'm the one who loves you." Spike scooted to her, wishing briefly that he could unsay, unfeel those last words.

Silence. Voices murmured, but stayed indistinct. "I know you do." Buffy spoke quietly.

"Let me wrap up your hand?"

"Don't- don't do anything weird." She held it out gingerly.

She might as well have been on heroine. It shook like a leaf in a windstorm.

Spike's reach bypassed her hands and went to her face, her neck, slowly, evenly. "Damn undead skin." He muttered bitterly.

"What is it?" Buffy reached for him too. _He looks so sad. So worried._

"Maybe that fever's back." He swallowed. "Must be a fever. Or- maybe you should tell me about those people you ran into today in the woods?"

She should know them. The people. They were all around her, ready to kill her. So why was she still here? "They didn't hurt me yet." She answered in a puzzled voice. "But I could see them. I know they want to..."

"I'm not so sure they didn't. You were flat on the ground and you screamed. You're shakin' all over. I can't tell if you have a fever or not, but I like to gamble and I'd lay even money you're either burnin' up." He swallowed again, drifting slightly, "You're always so warm. So warm." He refocused, "Or they shot you up with something."

"Huh?"

"Do you trust me?"

_NO! No, you don't, say you don't, they're all against you._

"Yeah."

"Let me see you?"

"I'm all yours."

"Too right you are." He whispered to himself as he began to look her over, keen eyes taking in every inch.

* * *

She let him undress her, looking for some needle mark or a sting, a scratch or a wound. Nothing out of place, and he was thorough. Excruciatingly so.

"Why stopping?" Buffy whimpered when his hands replaced her lifted shirt.

" 'Cause I can't find a bloody thing, not even a nick on you, except for the hand, and I watched you do that." He slicked back his hair, currently ungreased and standing up in disarray. "An' I think you're boiling." His hands lingered on her torso. "But me bein' Mr. Room Temperature, I can't get an accurate reading, so let me check."

Buffy submitted to having her temperature taken. Slightly raised, nothing significant. She accepted two Tylenol, but she dropped them silently down the bath tub drain when he wasn't looking. _Because... because you can't let them give you pills. Not pills from Giles. Because he was telling you that it was time. Time for it to be over. He knows that you have to- that you have to ..._

The shaking got worse.

"Maybe you better have an early night." Spike scratched his head worriedly. "I thought Slayers didn't get sick."

"I almost died from the flu last year." Buffy informed him, rising with a wobble. "But I'm not sleepy. I'm just ..." _I'm ending. He knows that, right? _"I'm waiting for it to happen."

Ah yes, the mysterious two day remark that the Watcher'd relayed to them, now turned into one day, now turned into 'almost done', but what the bloody hell had there been to show for it? "Think your old man shouldn't have said anything." He growled and followed her from the loo. "You can make yourself crazy with waiting. I did."

"You did?"

"Waiting for Dru to come back to me. Started at every little sound. Jumped up an' checked the door every hour..." He shook his head. "Better not to look for it sometimes, Slayer. Sometimes it happens." Spike looked at her as she curled up in the corner of the couch, slim bare legs folded beneath her, shivering in nothing but a long white sweater. "Sometimes it doesn't."

* * *

He fixed her a snack, pop tarts and milk, all she said she wanted to eat. He didn't dare go hunting now, unable to leave her alone. "We'll have a quiet night in." He said, and she nodded.

It was a night of watching the telly, alternating between PBS and the Spanish shows they'd grown addicted to.

Neither actually watched much of anything.

* * *

_Did you fool yourself? Did you? Into thinking this was love, and all it was was the chance to take care of someone again? Did you drag her down? Or did you just wait for her to cave from the pressure and conveniently take advantage, you with the hungry heart? _Spike accuse himself silently as they sat together, and with equal passion, defended himself.

I_ built her up! I had her bloody back, and if I had her front as well- so what? She's mine. For right now. And- and even if she's ill, the strain, the stress, whatever gets to her, she's not the same as Drusilla at all._

_ I could never reach Drusilla. _

_ My black swan could fly so high, dance with the stars... and crash back to earth like a raging comet._

He hesitantly curled a long strand of her hair around his forefinger. She didn't pull away, rather snuggled in deeper.

_ Dammit. Why is the one who should be so untouchable the only one I can reach? There's nothing really wrong with her, that's why. _By now he was doubting that- but he was also doubting himself, what he could see, what he wanted to see. Who he wanted to be with..._ She'll be fine. She's the Slayer. She's magnificent. She's unbeatable._

_ She's mine._

* * *

The respite from the madness overcoming her lasted an hour or so. And then...

She was trapped. Captive in her nightmare, only it was a waking nightmare this time. Waking terrors. Her eyes went glassy, and the trembling in her limbs ceased as she found herself petrified, suddenly overcome by a wave of absolute fear.

She wanted to get up and run from it, but she knew it would follow her. Just like this problem had followed her, these assassins had tracked her until she knew there was never a safe spot in this world- only a person who could give her the illusion of safety. So she stayed in his arms.

* * *

_You think he can save you? You know you always thought that about me. About _us_. You thought love would save us. _Angel's soft, deep voice played inside her inner ear, where she couldn't shut it out, though she tried to argue with it.

_"Love _would_ have saved us."_

_ "Really? You seemed to prefer a sword in my chest."_

_ "I'm talking about this time! When you could have stayed. _That _was when it was too late!"_

Angel's bittersweet smile turned savage._ "So you admit there's a 'too late'?"_

Buffy's inner voice had no answer, she merely flexed her jaw in a spasmodic swallow, searching for a reply.

_"Save your breath. You won't be using it for long." A small hole, dripping blood appeared in the center of the shirt that the not-really-there-Angel wore. "There's a point where it's too late. Where death is the only answer."_ _He breathed against her ear, cold mist._

Buffyshivered as he vanished, leaving a momentary lull in her mind.

"Cold, Baby?" Spike pulled her closer.

She nodded silently, and laid her head on his shoulder, eyes glazed.

_"You fail at saving the ones that matter most." _She could no longer "see" him, but his voice hissed out a parting shot.

"It's not true!" Buffy burst out.

Spike gave her a puzzled look. "Slayer? What's not true?"

Deep breaths, shaky breaths were the forerunners to any words. "This. All of this. Where it's safe..."

"I know this isn't safe. We can leave. But nowhere-"

"Is ever safe." Buffy swiveled in his lap, his eyes bringing her the moments of clarity that were becoming harder and harder to access. "As long as I'm alive."

His pale lips twisted and smoothed as he tried to feel out her mood. He'd had long experience of treading carefully with a woman whose madness delighted and angered him by turns. _With her, the crazy talk doesn't fit._ "Maybe not. But you're a fighter, aren't you?"

"I know." _I am. I am the Slayer. _

_ "Yeah. Because you killed _me._ Remember me, Normal Girl?" _Buffy started as another image floated behind her eyes. Herself. Younger. Less strain in her eyes, shoulders that were never stooped under anything heavier than the weight of shopping bags. _ "I stopped existing. You used to at least let me come out and play, but now- well, he's saying it. Listen to the vampire. The _vampire_."_

"You stopped bein' such a wuss, pullin' back, afraid of your power. You've got it, they want it, never, ever let 'em have it, Luv."

_"Don't listen to him. Listen to me. I _am_ you. I know what it's like to be stuck inside you, with this power thing to strangle me, needing to hold it back- and you just told it to go ahead and mow me down."_

_"She does that. A lot." _Willow suddenly appeared in the mind scape. _"There's so many times she forgets what she's asking of us 'normal people'. Like, she wants friends, but then they end up dying or almost dying. Kind of puts a damper on hanging out."_

_"Yeah, man."_ Xander threw his arms across the two girls' shoulders as he was added to the mixed up imagery in Buffy's brain. _"I think all of us will be glad when she's finally on the other end of the almost dying thing."_

_ "Too bad I have to die, too." Normal Buffy pouted._

_ "She kills everything important. She doesn't get it. She doesn't get how it feels at all."_

"I almost die every day! What the hell is your problem?" Buffy shouted suddenly, boiling over.

"What?" Spike watched her rise, her face changing shades. "Slayer-"

"I never stop fighting, never did, even before I 'took control' of my power, made it mine! I was always fighting for you, for all my friends and everyone I loved and don't forget to mention the whole world! Of course I know what it feels like, and of course I want to be normal!"

He had no idea where the tirade had come from- and more worryingly, who it was directed at. Parts of it could have referred to what he'd said, but the rest, not so much. _Shit. Pixies in her head. Seen it all before._

Strange how this hurt worse, hurt in a different way that made his guts twist. _Because this isn't who she is. And yet it's so close to who she is, it's not in control of her yet, this fever, this disease, this-_

"Spell." Spike's head jerked up as he watched her skulking away. "Slayer!"

"Shut up, Spike! I'm not done." Buffy spat, advancing on something- a reflection of herself in the inch clear black glass in the window, the only sliver not hidden by curtains. She continued to lecture something only she could see, "I have been fighting for years and everyone suddenly turns against me? Leaves me? Says they want someone new, someone better?" Her voice quavered dangerously. "All I ever wanted was for all of us to walk out okay, walk away from every bad thing that happens."

_"But you let us down, Sweetie. Why are you so mad? We know you want to save us- we're just trying to make you see that this is the only we you can. The only way you can't fail us again." _Joyce's comforting, maternal figure was beside her in the glass now, a soft arm around her waist._ "Now. Who's my brave girl?"_

"I am." Buffy answered aloud.

_"You don't want to keep fighting forever, do you, Darling?"_

"I'm so tired. I'm so tired of fighting."

_"Then end it, Honey. Make it all go away. Promise me, promise me one thing, and be a good girl and keep your promise to Mommy... You'll stop fighting. You'll just lay down- and never wake up again..."_

Buffy sniffed in, head throbbing and tears threatening to overflow. "I'm tired of fighting all of this." She choked out.

"Yeah? Join the club, Slayer."

Buffy looked away from the glass with a sharp jerk of her head. It wasn't her mother beside her. It was Spike.

"Who're you talkin' to, Luv?" He asked in low, almost threatening voice, eyes dragging from her, to the window, and back.

"I- don't - know." Buffy backed away from him, hit the edge of the steps to the crawl space, and sat down hard. "I thought I heard someone... Saw someone again..." _Don't tell him. I have to protect him. I have his back. _

"I think you did, too." Spike smiled wanly. "I think maybe we oughta call your Watcher."

"NO! No. I'm- I'm tired of fighting, Spike."

"Har har. You an' me- we never give up."

"I know, but-"

"But we can be pretty damn tired. It's just another thing we add to the list. You remember the list?"

Buffy nodded slowly. "That's not important right now."

"Yeah, it is. We got an hour or two left in this doomsday countdown." He took her hand and pulled her to her feet, trying to remember where the list might be, the list of all the commonalities. _Made when we were fightin' not to kill each other, to keep it together. Now I'm fightin' to keep her together. Us together. _

He had another motive as well.

* * *

They sat on opposite sides of the coffee table, the list between them, now much creased. "Tired of fighting." He wrote. "Never quit."

"Uh-" Buffy bit her lip.

"Never. Quit." He underlined it, looking fiercely at her.

Buffy put her head in her palm. _Is that true? I don't know. Maybe._ "Break promises." She added softly.

"Keep promises." He countered. "We've done both." She nodded and he pushed. "C'mon now, Slayer. We've spent almost a month together. A bloody month! We must have more than this. Think about it."

* * *

It worked. Sometimes it did with Dru, and sometimes it didn't. If he could just find the little strings that bound her to reality, reminded her of what they had together, sometimes it was strong enough to keep her mind from dragging her into an abyss.

It made his heart lift that he could do it with the Slayer. _She doesn't deserve this. Whatever's happenin' to her. I have to get her to stay. _

_ She never leaves. It can't be me, it just can't be _me_, that lets her get away, the one and only time she might go off the deep end. I couldn't bear that._

"We can so not cook." Buffy smiled for a second.

"Oi! I can cook. I just can't cook certain things."

"Like food. Put it on the list." Buffy felt as though there were shadows looming behind her. Maybe people as well. A childish strategy had wormed its way into her mind for the time being, "Don't look. Maybe they'll go away." Hey, it worked with monsters under the bed- at least until she was called. Then the monsters met pointy wooden death. She smiled again. "Kick ass monster killers."

"Too right." He tossed her the pen. "We speak a bit of Spanish now. _Poco_."

"_Verdad._ And we are _addicted_ to soap operas." She scribbled.

"Good in bed." He risked it. It didn't seem to bother her at all. "That should have been on the list before." He stretched back cockily.

"I didn't know that you were before. I wouldn't have believed it."

"What now? With this body and these bedroom eyes?" Spike sounded indignant.

"Uh yeah. With that body and those eyes. They don't say bedroom, Buddy."

"Don't they?" He waggled his brows. _No moves! What the hell is wrong with you?_

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Okay, they might _now. Sometimes_."

"So put it on the list."

"Good in bed." Buffy flushed in a way that had nothing to do with fear or fever. _He's the only one who says anything good about me..._

_ Why is that?_

"We - love someone we're not supposed to love." Buffy whispered hesitantly, pushing the pen back towards him.

"Was that before, Luv? Or is that now?" Spike's own voice came out as whisper, though he was trying to keep it solid.

Buffy thought of all the cruelty she had seen him perform, all the evil she had seen Angelus do. The earnestness in Angel- the Angel she had loved- and all the secret strength and compassion in the man before her.

_It's both. At least for me._ "Just write it down." Buffy murmured, and she stood up weakly. She gave him a long glance, and walked towards the bedroom._ Our bedroom._

* * *

_Day Twenty Five..._

Spike looked at the clock._ After midnight. Either they're late or we survived it. Or those Council of Wankers finally wised up to the fox runnin' the henhouse. _

_Or, more likely,_ he lit a final cigarette before following her into the bedroom, _they put a spell on her. A delusion, a fog, some sort of confusion. Or she's got a brain fever. Those were common back in my day. Don't suppose they call it that now. And why the hell would I know? I never gave a damn about death and disease among humans since I stopped bein' a member of the club. Plague and a high body count is like a devil's holiday. You don't question it- you just enjoy the leisurely pace you can catch your dinner when it's sick and weak._

He snapped the smoke in half with a sudden violent twitch.

_Well, I care now._

* * *

"Watcher's Residence, Giles' speaking." Giles answered the cell phone with a slightly slurred voice and bloodshot eyes. His hand shook as he held the phone. "Buffy?"

"No." Spike hissed. "The other half of the act."

"Oh, Lord, what's happened?" Giles demanded loudly.

From downstairs, Xander, who'd dozed off in front of the small television set, came awake with a snort and fell off the couch. Wesley, draped across the desk, sat up with a cry and part of the desk blotter stuck to his cheek.

"Nothin' has happened! We crossed the two day mark. What the hell does that mean? Are these jokers late or did they execute the bastard and revoke his assassination privileges? What's going on?"

"Buffy's alright?" Giles asked in a relieved voice, confirming it.

"No! I mean, yes, she's mostly alright. Look- I think someone in the baddie camp cast somethin' on her. She's weak as a half-drowned kitten and talkin' to shadows and things that aren't there. But she hasn't been out of my sight for more than ten minutes, an' she doesn't have a mark on her! I checked her, every inch, no bruises, no poisoned darts fired from blow guns, no bumps, no stings, no scratches, nothing. _Nothing._ It's gotta be a spell."

Giles clutched at the gray forelock tumbling over his brow. "Dear Lord... I suppose they could have done that. But for what purpose? Are you sure she's simply not overwrought, overtired? The strain of this year- Angel's return, his leaving again, the Mayor, Faith, Travers' betrayal..."_ My betrayal. Wesley. Heavens, Wesley's enough to loosen the tightest screws._ "She would only be one of many Slayers who had a period of - of battle fatigue. Even nervous breakdowns have happened on rare occasions."

Spike unlaced his boot with quick jerky movements, his deft fingers stiff and agitated as he pressed the phone with his hardened jaw, "I don't know." He sighed. "I s'pose. But she's not right. I haven't spent a lot of time with humans lately, and I don't know her that well- but I know her well enough. Somethin' isn't right. I don't want to be responsible for this call, Watcher. Sayin' she's just overwhelmed when maybe they're tryin' some new trick, makin' her trolley go off the tracks."

Giles put the phone to his chest and hollered down the stairs, sure and certain his two house guests would be awake now. "Wesley! Get out the_ Scribner's Basic Spells, Fourth Volume_. Xander! Go get Willow!"

"What's wrong?" The duo called in perfect chorus.

"I don't know! Nothing, possibly. Simply do as you're told!"

"On it!"

"No need to be rude!"

"Bloody hell." Giles crashed back on his bed, phone replaced to his ear. "Let me talk to her."

"She's in bed. Asleep. I can hear her heart, all soft and drowsy." He shook himself. _You can't let the Watcher hear you go all soppy about the girl! _"Yeah. Uh." He coughed carelessly. "Not good to wake her. An' she told me she didn't want to speak to you lot."

"She told us that as well. That it was time to end this, to concentrate." Giles went through the spell book in his head. A basic protection spell, a basic revelation spell, a spell of detection, all things they might try to see if Buffy was under some magic influence. "Did anything unusual happen in the last day or two? Something that might make her- I don't know, suddenly feel an added pressure? The proverbial straw that broke the camel's back?"

_I told her. I told her I loved her. She asked me to. She _wanted _me to. She loves me back. She said it. That can't be it. Oh God, that can't be it._ "This threat. One too many threats." He replied half-truthfully.

"I hate to say it, but we've placed a tremendous amount on her, and we've isolated her from the things that made her strongest- her support circle."

"Oi! I've been supportive! I taught her to play chess an' I taught her to drive an' I- I bloody well have earned my commission, Watcher!"

Taken aback and mildly puzzled by those remarks, but still focused on the more serious matter, Giles snapped, "Do stop shouting and think, you ass! I mean people who love her! Her whole reason to fight."

He started in an angry bark, "I-" Then let it die._ I love her._ _But he doesn't need to know that. _"I get your point. So..." He finished with the boots, and now shrugged out of the shirt, switching the phone from hand to hand as he did so. "What do we do? What's the word?"

"There's no word at all from the Council. Our inside men haven't contacted us in the midst of the trial. I'm assuming they'd inform us as soon as something concrete occurred. In the meantime, I'll let you know what we can find out through spells of our own. We have personal items of Buffy's, and a talented witch. That should be enough to at least perform a spell of revelation. As in, reveal what magical incantations, if any, are affecting her."

"Bloody marvelous. What do I do?"

"Keep her close. If she- if it's not a spell, if this is some slow running infection and she keeps getting weaker-" No. No it wouldn't happen like that. An impossibility for a simple illness to hurt her. And yet... "Get her to a hospital if you have to, I suppose."

"An' when they ask questions?"

Giles paused. "Try to leave them alive. I'll call you back as soon as our spell is cast." There was a click in Spike's ear, and then the phone went dead.

* * *

"Typical Nancy. All books and suggestions, no answers." Spike grunted in frustration and put the phone back in the pocket of his jeans as he began loosening them from around his hips.

_Although he did say to keep her close..._

* * *

Buffy wasn't asleep. She was lying in a sort of stupor, her body slowing as toxins flooded her neuro system and began affecting some of her involuntary muscle functions.

Like being alive- but feeling yourself dying, trapped and unmoving. At first, as it settled over her, blind panic had filled her, and she'd concentrated on the slowing swoosh and thud of her own heartbeat, unsure of whether to scream and thrash, or whether to think her final thoughts, because maybe this was what dying was like. Oh she would have had strength to move and maybe jumpstart her system, push past the mental fog and physical fatigue as she had several times in the last day, except that after a few minutes she picked up on other noises, faint muffled noises coming from beyond the bedroom door. She needed to lay still- needed to listen.

"Not good to wake her. An' she told me she didn't want to speak to you lot."

...

"This threat. One too many threats."

...

"Oi! I've been supportive! I taught her to play chess an' I taught her to drive an' I- I bloody well have earned my commission, Watcher!"

...

"I get your point. So... What do we do? What's the word?"

...

"Bloody marvelous. What do I do?"

...

"An' when they ask questions?"

...

Seeds of doubt were planted. _He went behind my back. He called Giles. _

_ But that doesn't mean anything, does it? _

_ I've never let him down. And if I'm not safe, he doesn't get the Eye. And I heard him shouting that he wants his commission._

_ Only what if Giles told him to do something else in order to get paid? Like kill me in my sleep._

_ Giles would never do that. _

As if summoned by that thought, Giles' spectral form appeared by the edge of the bed, and knelt, so he could look into her wide, frozen eyes as the pupils dilated in the darkness.

_"Oh, yes I would. I rather think I owe you one, Dear. Your demon lover killed the woman I loved. Oh. You also got me fired. Honestly, Buffy, my personal and professional lives are in tatters because of you."_

The voice turned colder, warning. _"I thought you promised your mother you'd go to sleep by now. It's late. It's too late..." _Something glinted in the moonlight, and Buffy gasped in weakly.

"Just me." Spike slid in between the covers beside her, naked and slightly damp from running a wet cloth over his drawn face. "Look, I called your 'handler', Slayer. He's gonna run a little mojo diagnostic and see if someone put the whammy on you. Alright, Luv?"

She swallowed twice before she could speak. "You'd never go behind my back, right?"

"Behind it?" Spike propped himself up on his elbow and looked into her eyes. "No. No double crosses in truces like this. Where there's so much at stake. If we were playin' poker- okay, maybe. But this? No."

Another swallow. Her lips felt dry and she felt dehydrated in general. "Everyone says it's time for this to be over."

"It is. It was supposed to last for two weeks tops. Should've got that in writing." Spike muttered the last bit irritably.

"Slayers don't live long. Three or four years."

"I heard of five once." Spike rolled her over as well. Oh Lord, she's beautiful. Even when she's barmy, she's beautiful. Those emerald eyes were like black wells with stars in the bottom. _I'll bring you back some moonlight, and you'll be my sunshine, my sunshine that doesn't sting._ "You can't think like that. You're not a quitter. We already said it. I meant it. I'll even swear it, how 'bout that? That's gotta be one for the record books, Cutie, the Slayer of Slayer offering an oath to the Queen of the White Hats." He smiled. She stared at him with those depthless eyes. "I won't give up, if you don't give up."

"I promise." She replied too easily. Because it was on the list that they broke promises. _Both of us break promises, that's why it's on the list. Something we have in common. I'll always want to believe him. But maybe I shouldn't trust him. He shouldn't trust what _I _just said either, after all._

Pieces of her had been dying all day. That was one of the last living parts inside her, the trust she had in him, her partner, her ally, her unlikely lover.

"Shh. Shh, don't you look so haunted, Luv. You're what gives the nightmare world bad dreams."

_Nightmare world. If only this was a dream and I could wake up. I could erase everything bad that happened to us. All of us._ Faces of friends and family circled before her eyes and vanished, replaced by the deep sapphire gaze that held sway against any other mental intrusion.

"Say it." Buffy's hands slid slowly up his arms and to his adam's apple where she felt it rise and fall. Hie tongue flicked out over cream colored lips as he gave her a serious look. "Unless you don't want to."

"You're not well." He hesitated.

"Love doesn't make a person worse, does it?"

_Didn't do me any good_. Angel waved from the recesses of her guilt-stricken mind.

_Doesn't exactly help_. Spike imagined Drusilla's pale blue eyes dancing with unholy glee, insane light inside of them.

"Screw 'em." Spike rolled on top of her. _This is gonna end badly. However it ends._ "Love you, Slayer. Love you like you're in my head and under my skin. If you've got a disease, I can't catch it, if you've got something scarin' you, it can't frighten me off. I love you, and I hate you for makin' me fall."

His words were hot and insistent, even angry. A symphony of reality, no confusion there. Buffy sighed and let him plunder her mouth, giving in, limp and yielding to every touch. "I don't even hate you anymore. I don't know if I can trust you-"

"You can, you idiot." He nibbled her neck gently, mindful of her weakened state.

"But I'll still love you. Until it ends." _If I'm going to die- and I will, sooner or later, whether my heart just stops or it's someone I trusted stabbing me in the back like they think I stabbed them- I'm going to die not holding back. As long as I still have the power, it's gonna get used. _

"No holding back?" He laughed once in awe as she wound her arms around him, calves following, clinging tightly.

"No holding back. This is it."

"Shhh. Don't say things like that." He frowned down on her.

"Well... what if it was, Spike?" Buffy stroked his skin lovingly.

"Then we'd go all night. An' all day. An' maybe the next couple of nights and days. 'Cause it's not endin'. Everything else can. Not you an' me."

She blinked, full clarity back for a moment. "What are you-"

"No holdin' back. Take the damn risk. Say it." He turned the words back on her. "Say it to me."

"Love you."

It had been so brash and so demanding, then suddenly, it was just two people who realize they've got what they were searching for- right before it's time to give it back.

Neither one thought too much about what was ticking down the minutes, was it victory, was it illness, was it a demon who'd be more successful than the rest, was it simply a natural parting about to occur?

It didn't matter. If this was the last time- it had to be the best time.

* * *

The world boiled down to a single lighthouse in the sea of madness drowning her. For moments, she even realized it, had it on the tip of her tongue to explain that she'd been having hallucinations, that they were seeming so real that she couldn't tell them apart from actual events. That she knew her family and friends loved her dearly and would never call her a failure.

But they were fleeting moments, gone between heartbeats until they stopped coming altogether and the only safe haven was in him.

So she poured out everything she had left, and gave it to him.

* * *

Spike knew it was everything she had. He could feel the limbs shake with effort, and no matter how many time he tried to do all the work of lovemaking, take it down to gentle and slow, she defeated him. _She always defeats me. Damn good thing she's on my side._

_ No, she's not. I'm on hers._

"Hell, Slayer," he groaned, toppling onto his back, watching her move astride him, her hips in a slow tortured rhythm on his hardness, "let me."

"No. I wanna see you looking up at me." She panted and smiled down on him.

"Like I worship you?" He had a hint of malice in his voice, because his heart only worshipped one goddess.

"Like you love me." She corrected, and spun down in a wave of tangled hair, head resting on his chest.

_She's giving me everything she has. For the love in my eyes. It's all I ever wanted. It's her. Just as she is, just as she was. Dammit. _

He scooped her chin up, and slid her legs down before he pressed them both to their sides, scissoring together, thrusting in deep to her as he held her in place. "I'll still look at you like that, Buffy. Always look at you like that. You're mine."

"Know." She only had strength for one word as she adjusted to his rhythm.

"Yes! Bloody hell, how can you love me and not belong to me?" He grabbed her shoulders and shook her once as he pushed her underneath himself, hating himself for doing it. "It goes together, it _is_ together. That's what love is, Dru!"

_Bloody fuckin' hell. _He fell silent, rasping against her, open mouthed.

Buffy looked stunned and hurt. She blinked up at him. "I _know._ Not 'no'. 'I know.' Like- I get it." She whispered. "And I'm not Drusilla. I'm Buffy."

His eyes opened and his heart opened too, one last little keyhole suddenly turned, one small door swinging wide. "You_ know_. You said that before, didn't you?"

"I don't remember." She admitted. "Probably?"

"You're mine." He tested her.

"I'm no one else's." She shrugged sadly.

"You're the whole world's hero, but you're _my_ girl. For now." _Forever._

"Mhm." She squeaked out her agreement under his sudden crushing kiss.

"You understand what it means." Spike released her in a few seconds, stroking back her hair. "Even if everything is fallin' apart inside you."

Buffy nodded. "Sometimes I feel like that's the only thing I understand."

Another shift, gentle this time, to take her hands and lace them with his, pressed lazily above her head, so he could rain kisses down across every aching inch and worried line. "Listen to me. That's all you ever need to know, Baby. Love an' bein' with the person who loves you. As long as you have that, you're gonna be okay."

Her eyes rolled back as he coaxed pleasure from her. Chest heaved up and he took a tender nipple in his mouth. Her heartbeat sped up slightly and he pressed his cheek to it. "Do you get what love is?" She heard herself ask, not really sure if she was asking him, or herself, or maybe the guilty ghosts waiting to reenter her mind.

"It's what makes you give," he plunged into her, "and give, and give," he pushed himself in harder, and rolled his shoulders up higher, so his head was above hers, smiling smugly down into her eyes, "with everything you have. Nothing you wouldn't do. No battle you wouldn't fight. You don't leave, and you don't hurt. That's what it is."

She came, and underneath all the pleasure it hurt, it wracked her tired body and sent the sluggishly pumping toxins flying through her system. "I think there's something more." Buffy gasped against his shoulder as it fell against her, juddering against her chin as he came.

"What?"

"I don't know. I just have a feeling there's something you left out." Buffy laughed lightly against his skin, and moaned as he pulled her more firmly onto himself. "Spike!"

"What'd I say? You didn't think I was gonna be done after one short little go round? That was just the appetizer, Pet."

* * *

They worked through several courses, more gentle and slower than the last one, each feeding off the other's need to spur them on through an hour or two, until she was limp and sighing contentedly in his arms as they cocooned.

"Strange mix, us. But we work." Spike stated, ignoring the many little follow up questions clamoring for answers.

"Best partnership ever." Buffy tried valiantly to ignore all the questions and all the other more sinister things seeping into her brain as her last bit of strength gave out.

"Love you. You rest an' it'll be better in the morning." Spike kissed her forehead as they untangled.

"Mhm." _Love. Nothing you wouldn't do. No battle you wouldn't fight. You don't leave, and you don't hurt._

_ Something missing._

* * *

_ "Love sacrifices." Angel's figure entered with the first second of slumber. "Remember, Buff?" _

_ A sharp plunge, a sword through his chest._

_ Only it wasn't a sword in her hand now. It was a stake. And the chest was leaner and more defined._

_ "What?" Buffy gasped, watching the man she'd recently come to love turn to ash at her hands. "What- what's happening? I would never-"_

_ "Oh, you would always. You hurt the ones you love. Or you let your love hurt others." Miss Calendar appeared in the pile of dust, and kicked it. _

_ "Love sacrifices." Angel repeated._

_ "It's either gonna be you hurting him- or him getting hurt because of you. Those are your only options." Willow handed her a number two pencil and a bubble sheet. "Fill one in."_

_ "What about none of the above?" Buffy threw the paper down angrily._

_ "That can only happen if you remove yourself from the equation." Giles handed her a paper full of squiggling numbers and formulas she didn't recognize. "Don't you see? If you're around, you'll just add him to the list of things you've hurt. Such a shame, really. He's most unlucky in love, and now to die for you-"_

_ "NO!" Buffy screamed._

_ "Unless you'd like to die for him?" Giles began moving variables around._

_ "For all of us." Willow reminded her._

_ "Before anyone else gets hurt." Angel, still bleeding from a stab near his heart threw in._

_ "It's really all for the best." Joyce concluded with a sad smile._

_ Buffy nodded slowly. Love. Sacrifices. It's either I die, or everyone dies. "It's an offer I can't refuse."_

* * *

Around three in the morning, the phone rang in the dark cabin. Muffled under a wad of denim and left out in the hall, neither sleeping figure heard it. No one answered.

* * *

_To be continued... and the next chapter ends on a much happier note, folks. Hang in there!_


	26. Chapter 26

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the support! Hang on. This chapter is long enough for two, but I didn't want readers to have to wait for a resolution any longer. Still- Emotional roller coaster warning!_

_Author's Second Note: Lyrics of _Hallelujah_ by Leonard Cohen are used at one point of the story. I think they fit._

_Dedicated to the best, the most awesome, the incomparable : Skeezixx, Ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, micmoc, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, Touch the Dark, hbmckidd, ValidescopeWest, Rachel, Alottalove, Cavementftw, ammuna, Seapea, Maire Ailbhe, Illusera, ShyL, mike13z50, Loverswalk89, Suzanne, KittenofDoomage, Michelle, Clara Johnson, and darkeyesgirl._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XXVI**

_Day Twenty Five..._

"Hello? Hello? Honestly, why wake us up at midnight and then not answer the bloody thing." Giles muttered impatiently as the voice mail began to play its automatic recording. "I don't even know if this is set up properly. Ooh, it beeped." He cleared his throat. "Hrm. Buffy and -ah, yes, well, call us back."

"Tell them!" Willow prodded Giles' wrist as he was about to hang up.

"Oh, yes. It's taken a bit of doing, but we were able to discern there are no spells surrounding Buffy except our own Obscurati. Which is- erm- benevolent. She- Buffy- voicemail is most annoying, hrm. Buffy might be suffering from some infection, something reducing her mental functioning, or-"

"Meningitis! Tell them it could be meningitis! If she has a stiff neck they should go to the ER now." Willow bounced on the balls of her feet and shouted over Giles' shoulder.

"We have several theories about what might be causing it. I advise rest for the moment, although, naturally you should follow Willow's advice if symptoms present themselves." Giles added diplomatically, patting Willow's shoulder as she glared at him.

"Thank you." Willow said with a satisfied nod, and then staggered to the couch. "Need sleep now."

"Call us back. Buffy, please. Call back." Giles repeated as he hung up and stared at the phone with a worried expression.

* * *

_Noon, London time..._

"We will break for a recess."

"Why don't you simply adjourn, Fallows, old man?" Travers crossed his legs and leaned back slightly, the picture of ease, despite the fact that he hadn't slept well. Last night he'd been in a heavily fortified room with a simple bed and none of his luxuries, only a few steps above a common prisoner. "You're not going to find evidence that doesn't exist." _Not in two and a half days, he won't._

_ "_That's not your call to make, Mr. Travers. Mr. Collins family has been contacted. He only has a few distant relatives, but they're not aware of any family members in the United States."

"So Mr. Collins fabricated a family problem to take a holiday. That's hardly commendable, but not illegal."

"Then Mr. Collins will be reprimanded for lying to his superiors. When we find him. Which we will. In three days or three weeks, we will find him. And hear his story. Lunch, all. We reconvene at one."

* * *

"That's what the bloody hold up is? Why the bloody fuck do we need the bloody testimony of bloody, bollocking Collins?" Abby growled.

"Would you stop? We're on Council property!" Robson hushed his friend and forced him rapidly outside.

"You're turning the air blue!" Ginny scolded.

"Like that matters! And at least you two can have a shag to distract yourselves, my bird's in Cardiff!"

"I'm calling Giles." Robson hailed a cab and dragged Abby into it.

"We can't do that! Travers is already painting him like some anarchist plotting to bring him down! If we-" Ginny protested.

"Oh hang it, I'm tired of trying to be inconspicuous. Running and hiding has got to stop! We have to take him down, or we'll never have another chance! We almost didn't catch him this time, if he wants to do it again... Ginny, he'll be after anyone who opposed him if we give him the chance! He'll be getting away with murder."

"Hm. Where to?" The cabbie asked nervously.

"Out of the cab!" Abby shoved at his co-workers.

"Wait, what?"

"To the pub!"

"We can't solve everything with a Scotch and soda!" Robson tried to hold him back.

"No, but they have a pay phone and it's closer than your flat!"

* * *

"Oh for the love of God..." Xander dragged himself across Willow's sleeping form on the couch and grappled for the phone. "Wes. Wes!"

"Present!" Wesley slurred.

"Great, move your big, British head so I can get the phone off the desk."

"Is it Buffy?" Giles shouted down.

"It's the house phone!"

"I don't want pancakes, Mom." Willow batted at Xander.

"Loony bin, Xander speaking." Xander looked at the mantle clock. Four thirty. Four thirty! "Whoever this is, did you know it's 4:30? In the _morning_? The Xan-man only recognizes one four thirty and it's in the post-meridian."

"I'm sorry, I was trying to call another number." Robson frowned at the phone.

"Whoa- whoa. English person! Wes, Giles! English person on the phone. Don't hang up Mr. English person. Um." Xander sat up, pushing against Willow, who skidded off the couch with a yelp of surprise. "You do want to speak Giles, right?"

"Yes! Rupert Giles."

"Xander, hang up, I'm on the line." Giles sighed. "Robson?"

"I don't have much time. We've got an hour for lunch and I'm in the pub a few blocks from Headquarters in London."

"It's - it's very early here, but that's alright. I think I only just fell asleep." Giles tried to blink himself into a state of alertness. "How are the proceedings moving along?"

"Stymied."

"What?" Giles' aghast tone penetrated the stupor of his three guests, who slowly dragged themselves upright and exchanged glances. "We've given them everything! Everything but a signed confession, what in the world can they want?"

"Collins."

"Hm?"

"Collins. From wet works. He's in America. With thousands of pounds in his bank account. One guess what he's supposed to do over there."

"He sent a hit man. An actual hit man." Giles gaped.

"He's daft!" Wesley mounted the stairs to the loft bedroom in time to hear Giles' last remark. "A Slayer against a human-"

"A human with a high powered sniper rifle." Giles glared at and then ignored him, head crashed into one palm. "Go on, Robbie."

"Travers is claiming everything was idle gossip or coincidence. He admits to borrowing the book, but just because he did, doesn't mean they can prove he summoned anything with it. He admits to having the conversations, says they were frustrated rantings, he's blaming Pryce for her disappearance, because he was on site, and from the conversations, it sounds like he's on board with getting rid of her."

"How stupid can the Board members be? They're not going to believe that, are they?"

"You know how it is. It's the word of the most powerful man- who has barely batted an eye during all this- against some facts and opinions from a few less than favorite sons. If they don't find Collins in a day and a half- Travers walks with some slap on the wrist for not following Council procedures."

"Oh dear Lord. That's what he meant! Travers told Wyndham- Pryce she'd be dead in about two days! He's sent Collins after her."

"Well, surely if she knows who to look for, she can turn the tables? Track him, catch him, get him to a place where agents can retrieve him?"

"I'm sure she can. She must."

"We've got to go. We're not sure if they're going to call us to give further evidence." Robson sighed. "Call me. Call headquarters direct."

"I will." Giles heard the bustling of a crowded pub over lunch and then the dial tone.

"Buffy's ill." Wesley murmured, standing to the side of the bed, white shirt no longer white but rather a faded gray from hours of being on his back, and stubble beyond pronounced, a two day scruff.

"I know."

"Do you think she's strong enough?"

"She's always has been before." Giles managed a weak smile.

Wesley didn't share it. "He's already up there, Giles. He must be waiting to make his move."

Giles reached for the cell phone.

* * *

She was curled in a ball in a cloudy haze of clamoring voices when the ringing woke her, just before the black of night could fade to the gray beginnings of dawn.

Buffy moved on leaden limbs, shaking as she moved out of Spike's embrace. She stiffly and slowly walking naked through the small house, head cocked to the side as if trying to find one sound in a babel of noise.

She bent to retrieve the jeans she tripped over in the hall, and shook them. The phone fell to the floor and snapped open, a small beam of electronic blue light making her wince.

"Buffy? Buffy, are you there? It's Giles."

The voice seemed tinny and far away. "G-Giles?" Buffy reached her hand towards the phone but didn't touch it.

"Buffy! Thank heavens, listen to me, I know you're not feeling your best, but I've got important information for you."

_~A man is there. Coming for you. We gave you time. You didn't use it wisely. Never trained, never studied. Oh, Buffy.~_

"Collins! He's in his late thirties, thin, dark haired. He's trained to get in and out quietly, but if the Council trained him-"

_~He'll kill you. Then Spike, because he's there with you. Then your family, because they knew what you were doing. Your friends, because you included them in your battles. You've embroiled them all, and they all must die. But you're the first on the list. If you were already gone by the time he arrived, he'd just leave. He might just leave all the ones you love alone. Alive. All their lives- for yours.~_

"I'll do it. I'll do it." Buffy gasped out as Giles finished speaking, though she hadn't heard his true words. "It's taken care of. You don't have to worry."

"Buffy? Buffy? I'm not finished. How are you feeling?"

Buffy kicked the phone to the side, letting the wall shut it for her.

* * *

"What'd she say?" Wesley queried.

"She'll do it. She'll find Collins and hold him until we can find some way to alert the Council. As good as taken care of. She hung up without answering about how she's feeling. That must mean she's feeling better. She said not to worry."

"Did that help?"

"Not a damn bit."

* * *

She put on his shirt because it was nearest. It hung down to the tops of her thighs, not that modesty mattered now.

"_You're a slut anyway. Demon whore."_ _Jenny Calendar stood behind her, ice cold hands on her shoulders as she whispered in her ear._ "_Angelus. Spike. Wasn't there another boy who you helped turn into a vampire?"_

"Ford." Buffy told nothingness through trembling lips.

_"Wasn't it Spike who killed him?"_

"M-maybe."

_"And Angel killed me?"_

"Yes."

_ "The sooner you're dead- the better."_

She shivered in the thin black fabric.

* * *

She found her shoes kicked off by the couch and shoved her feet into them.

_ What am I doing?_

_ Dying._

_ No. Saving them._

_ How? With what? _

She dropped to her knees and rummaged in the bag of weapons stashed behind the couch. Stakes. Crossbows.

_Stakes? I don't think that wood is going to work on me._ Tears ran down her cheeks and her hands came up empty.

_I never even got to say goodbye. It's too late now. _

Buffy suddenly knew that if she had to stay in that house one more minute, she'd cave, run back to Spike's arms. _He'd help me fight them. All the bad things, he doesn't quit, and we'd-_

_ "We'd all die." Xander reminded her._

_ "Slaughtered." Willow added. _

Buffy turned slowly to face the voices, only to find herself confronted with two forms, blood spattered and gory, fallen beside each other, dead bodies overlapping.

With a muffled, sobbing shriek, Buffy fled the house, half dressed, empty handed.

* * *

Spike woke at the sound of a door slamming. _Bloody hell, she's sick again. _"Slayer? Slayer, you want some Tums? I found some under the Tylenol last night. Ha. Wish I'd found 'em a lot sooner."

No response. He sat up, pulled himself to the edge of the bed with straining arms and stiff muscles gripping the edge of the bed as if trying to get a handle on things.

_The phone. Where's the phone? They were gonna call me back about the spell. About what's makin' her act this way?_

"Buffy!"

Nothing.

Then he knew, all at once, that she was gone.

The sun was starting to rise, and he felt like he was swallowed up in blackness.

* * *

_Where are you going? Where are you going? _

Voices followed her and pushed her blindly on.

_Run, little girl, run. Find that sweet oblivion. _

_ Or we'll take everyone you love and lock them in an oblivion that's far less comfortable. _

Buffy ran through the woods and muffled shriek after shriek as she stumbled over imaginary forms and cringed from imaginary voices, briefly wondering how she could be running from the hunting forms of her friends one moment, and tripping over their carcasses the next.

She slowed and panted against a tree, poisoned body weakening with every effort she pressed it to make. "I can't do this."

_"Oh, Buff." Angelus leaned around the other side of the tree, his brutal face suddenly before hers. _

"Angel!"

_"Sorry, wrong number. But here's a helpful reminder for you, Honey." He stepped away from the tree, dragging a smaller figure with him. Joyce. Held by her throat. _

_ "Buffy!"_

"Mom!"

_"What was that little thing? Oh yeah." Angelus snapped his fingers- and the older blonde's vertebrae._

"MOM!"

_"Love. Sacrifices. Chop chop, Slayer, before I catch your new boyfriend. He's not even human. You have no idea how many hours of 'fun' I can have with him."_

She suddenly knew exactly where she was going. Love sacrifices. Gives everything it has. Doesn't hold back.

There was one place, only a few miles away, where she knew that she could do the impossible.

She looked into the sun, and towards the peak. She'd jumped off it once and survived by a miracle. She supposed all she needed this time was to jump, since everything miraculous- strength, love, friendship- was turning against her.

* * *

He ransacked the house in under a minute, every door torn open, every space checked, windows peered out of, even though standing bare chested in the rising sun made his skin sizzle. He didn't notice, his heart was already going up in flames.

"BUFFY!" He bellowed out of the open door, forcing his feet into denim pant legs and down into boots in one harried motion. "Buffy!"

Struggling towards her final destination, Buffy heard the roar of her name. The last voice she'd ever expect to hear coming after her.

_He's coming to help you._ Her heart gave a little bound of relief.

_"Don't be silly, B. You know you can't trust him, if you can't trust us." Faith crouched to whisper in her ear. "I mean, you and me, we're like sisters! Same mojo running through our veins." She dragged a plum colored nail over Buffy's sweating, pallid face, "And I'd kill you in a heartbeat. Like you tried to do to me." _

"I- sometimes you don't have a choice." Buffy pleaded.

_"I know. Come on, Sweet Thing. Up and at 'em. You have more than one hunter to outrun today."_ Faith seemed to vanish, leaving the tired and disoriented girl alone.

* * *

He scented her as he burst into the clearing in front of the cabin, wrapped in his duster to avoid outright immolation. Oh God, how could he not have noticed that before? There was a musk of fear and something else, something pervasive but unidentifiable. He'd smelled hints of it, but how could it have gotten so much worse over night?

_Almost like she's been stewing in it. _

He ran through the clearing, calling her name, and not caring if that was a bad idea or not. If he met anyone after his girl today, he'd just rip their spleens out and leave them in an unclottable mess, without a second's pause.

Had she wondered off? Had she been taken? He couldn't see the second option being possible, but he didn't care if it was. "_SLAYER_!"

_It'll let them know I'm coming. Today, that's a good thing. You'd better run scared. If you try to take her from me, they'll be finding parts of you in shallow graves- for months..._

He had no idea his words were aimed at the one he was also fighting to protect.

* * *

The trail was too muddy with the scent, and only one scent, circling and falling and in no clear direction. In the relative shade of the woods, Spike lowered his duster and wiped at his eyes.

_ So she's running. Alone. She's running from something or to something, or both. _

_ What the hell would she try to get away from?_

He recalled the broken mirror, the way she was talking to the reflections in the glass, and the way her conversations sometimes seemed to be with no one.

_She's afraid of herself. No shock really, she was always a little afraid of part of herself. An' I never met a girl who could carry a load on her pretty little back like that one. Everything was about her._

_ It used to make her a bitch._

_ Now it makes her one of the strongest people I've ever seen. The one I'd want by my side any day. Every day._

Spike spun in a frantic circle as he contemplated this, his head throbbing in anxiety as he tried but failed to pick up a clear trail.

_What can you do to get away from the fear if it's bottled up in you? _He punched a tree savagely in his frustration.

_You can't bloody well get away from yourself. You can't even get a break unless you're asleep, or you're -_

"No." He shook his head, "No, no, no, _no_!"

_To hell with going on foot,_ he dug in his duster pocket for keys as he ran, hurdled into the Buick and revved it into drive, _I've got to outdistance her. _

The radio, still left on from their last drive, provided some cover from the question he didn't want to ask. _Where would she go- to end it?_

_ How can I stop her from ending it, if that's what she wants? She's the strongest woman I know, and I've never been able, not even once, to make a woman listen to me when it counted, even if they owned my heart. Even if I'm hers. Even if she's mine._

He wiped his eyes again and drove madly up the roadless terrain, heading to the peak above the lake.

_I've heard there was a secret chord_

_That David played, and it pleased the Lord_

_But you don't really care for music, do you?_

_It goes like this_

_The fourth, the fifth_

_The minor fall, the major lift_

_The baffled king composing Hallelujah_

* * *

_I finally won her. And now... I can't lose her._

Buffy looked up from the base of the hill that grew into a cliff's outcrop. Her knees and hands were bloody now, and death seemed to wait for her right here, at the bottom, no need to climb.

_But I always try to do the best I can. Even in things I'm trying to finish. This is my last ever battle. I have to do it right._

* * *

_Your faith was strong but you needed proof_

_You saw her bathing on the roof_

_Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you_

* * *

_ I was doing this for Dru. I love Dru. I will _always_ love Dru. It doesn't really matter what happens to Blondie, right? _

_ You'll lose the Eye, and lose your chance to get Dru back._

* * *

_She tied you to a kitchen chair_

_She broke your throne, and she cut your hair_

_And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah_

* * *

_ I don't care about that. I'll lose the chance to get Buffy back. _

_ What'd she do to you? She broke you, William, she made you faithless to your goddess. You don't even worship her. _

_ But she makes me happy. _

_ Oh God. She makes me happy._ He wiped his eyes again.

* * *

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

* * *

I_ can do this. Remember when you went to meet the Master? Yeah. You knew it was scary and you were going to die. But you did it, because it was going to save everyone._

_ But I died._

_ Yeah, well. Like I said. You can do this. _

So she began to climb.

* * *

The car's undercarriage screeched, and snagged, and clanked on rocks and boughs and unpaved paths he was making as he went. He was tempted to run, but the sun was shining now, golden above him, and he worried he would burn before he even reached her.

_I _have_ to reach her_. He put it in low and put the pedal all the way to the floor. Rocks crunched and spun across the ground and the car barreled forward.

_Baby, I have been here before_

_I know this room, I've walked this floor_

_I used to live alone before I knew you._

Even as he was killing himself inside with every thought of losing her- he also tried to shrug it off, to comfort himself with thoughts that it didn't matter.

_It's not like it's been a century. It's been three, almost four, weeks. I can live without her. I can go back to the way I was._

He saw her form with stinging eyes then, a black blemish halfway up the peak, clawing her way up, sliding down, and then pulling herself up again.

_She never stops. Even when it's a loss cause, even if it hurts, if it's literally killing her._

_ Who am I kidding? I'll never be the same without her. It's only been a few weeks, but she's my habit, one I don't want to break. _

The car halted at the base of the rise, and he shot out of it, motor still on, door flung wide and left hanging as he hollered, "Slayer! Buffy, come back!"

* * *

"No! Get away or they'll get you too!" Buffy frantically swatted the air behind her, and fell another foot, scraping her bare legs on the rough, gritty slope.

"Then they can have me! I just have to have you, first!" Bundled up in his duster, he fought to climb after her, and not to burn at the same time.

"You're going to get killed!" Buffy halted, turned and shouted down at him, still struggling up, clawing backwards.

"Then I die!"

"I don't want you to! It's either me, or it's you!"

"So let 'em have me!" He popped his head out for a second, hoping to lock eyes with her, to find the real girl locked inside the madwoman's facade. "You're the bloody hero, an' I'm the muscle. You wait in the car, an' I'll deal with whatever's up there!"

"No! I mean it, _no_!" Buffy winced and kicked down hard, sending a shower of rocks and gravel hurtling at him. She turned with a sob, and used her failing strength, the strength that had failed and failed and yet somehow kept going, to boost herself up onto the summit of the peak.

_I've seen your flag on the marble arch_

He fell a few feet, and sprang back up, dirt streaked and searing, eyes watering and wincing, wanting to shut out what he saw. He'd seen some version of this before, over and over again. The crying form. The eerie stillness surrounding a body wracked with so much pain and inner chaos that the air seemed to vibrate around it.

_Dru took it out on others. _

_ The Slayer sacrifices herself. It's her calling. That's what it means to love_.

He gasped in anguish at the flames on his grasping fingertips and the deeper burning in the place where his soul used to be.

He lunged forward.

She closed her eyes, spread her invisible wings, and fell.

_Love is not a victory march_

He spun around her, black leather suddenly a cape ablaze in sunlight and his lean white chest literally ablaze for that moment when the world seemed suspended for them.

Her shrill, single pitched scream that hung in the air.

His teeth gritting silence, as his mind churned out "Come on, come on, come on!"

Connection.

Time unfroze.

Buffy found herself swaddled in flames and skin and black leather. Her eyes flew open for one of the seconds between the top of the mountain and the bottom of the lake._ I was going to save him. But he's saving me. Only we're both going to end up dead._

She tucked her chin to her chest and felt his head slam into the top of hers.

_ I've got her. I've got her! _Spike thought in a haze of adrenaline, pain, and grief. How could everything be so bad and still make him feel so victorious inside?

_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah._

* * *

The chill water of the lake swallowed them up, put out the flames, and disappeared into her lungs.

Like a black and white torpedo, Spike launched himself off the bottom and broke the surface, for a moment, too wet to burn.

She was limp in his arms, and her heartbeat seemed to be missing. "Wake up!" Spike snarled, snapped, and slammed her hard across the back as he hauled her to the shore. Wading with water lapping around his heavy, soaking garments, he kept scanning her face. _That was the first time I thought she was mine, here in this lake. Mine. Some force of nature. _Now there was just a bundle in his grip._ Nothing's changed. Not to me. She has to make it. She has to stay mine! _He slammed her face down to the ground as water from the lake mixed with other salty tracks on his cheeks. "Wake up, damn you!"

He pushed his fist underneath her and thrust up, as he pressed into her back again, and was rewarded with a wheezing sound like a sick cat.

"Oh thank God! Thank you, God!" He pushed in the same manner again, and streams of water spewed out of her mouth and nose as she began to cough and gag. "That's right, Luv, that's right. You let it all out."

Buffy coughed and retched but her eyes remained shut and her breathing was weak and shallow.

But Spike would take it._ She's alive! _

"I thought I lost you." He wiped hair out of her wet face.

For a single second her eyes opened, and met his, before her injuries reclaimed her.

"Mine. Still mine."

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

* * *

Spike took off his duster and then flung it over top of them like a tent before he rose, cradling her in his arms.

His insides churned with a sudden chill as he recalled his thoughts from a few night ago.

_She stands on her own two feet. If I ever have to carry her- the world's about to end._

_ My world's about to end. _

"You hang in there, alright?" He ordered the unconscious form gruffly. "I'll kick your ass six ways from Sunday if you don't. I'll- I'll hide the soaps dictionary. I'll screw up the reception. Hell, I'll even listen to country music every time we- oh bloody hell the car's out on the other side now. See how inconvenient you are?"

The limp wet form in his arms said nothing. "Still love you, though." He growled and hugged her harder as he sprinted the last mile and a half to the house.

* * *

"Where's the phone?" Spike laid her down on the couch and stood up with a hiss. His hands and face had a nice assortment of burns from the rising sun, and the rest of him felt shaken and bruised, inside and out from the fall. All sorts of falling, he thought distractedly while he was searching for the phone. He finally found it on the floor and snatched it up.

The screen blinked at him._ One new voicemail. Enter code_.

_What the hell is the soddin' code?_ He almost threw the phone in his frantic rage, but realized just in time that it would be counter productive. T_he Watcher called. He might have said there was a spell. Or he might have said it was some stupid human illness. If it was a spell, he would have kept calling. If it was serious he would have kept calling._

He looked at Buffy, just starting to groggily surface from her unconscious state. _It's serious enough. A fall like that- spell or no spell, she needs more than a first aid kit. Time to get to the hospital._ The ranger station would be able to tell him where the nearest one was.

* * *

_"Failure."_

_ "What?"_

_ "Fail. Ure." Cordelia, in her cheerleading captain uniform, enunciated the word again, speaking close to Buffy's face, derision in each syllable._

_ "I tried." Buffy stepped back._

_ "Trying is great. If you don't want to make the final cut." Cordelia turned and flounced away, calling over her shoulder, "You know, you really shouldn't trust people. They just drive a knife in your guts."_

_ "Cordelia, wait-"_

_ She turned, a long piece of ry bar sticking through her middle. "Even the nicest guys in the world, Buffy." She said sadly. "You just can't trust them."_

* * *

"No spell? ... I don't think I know what that disease is. Watcher, tell the red head to settle, her yapping is givin' feedback."

Buffy's eyes slitted open and she raised her head feebly. Spike was standing a few feet away at the end of the couch, phone in one hand, a handful of her clothes in the other. She watched as he tossed them away.

"I'm takin' her down. ... I don't know, whichever one is fastest. ... Don't tell me about the risks, I know the risks! It's time to hand her over to the professionals... Well, I'll be a bit busy with the car an' all, an' ... Yeah, I'll call you when that's done."

_He's handing me over. He's throwing out my clothes. Giles knows. Willow knows. I do turn them bad. I do fail. I can't even protect myself how am I supposed to protect them? Everything is a lie. Everything they said... that I thought... I believed-_ Buffy sat up a few inches, in time to catch Spike's shocked expression as their eyes met- _nothing was real._

Something in her mind exploded and the fragile shell of her remaining reason collapsed.

* * *

"Hey, there's my girl." Spike laid the phone on the couch and dropped the handful of clothes he was holding into the bag he was packing for her to take to the hospital. Maybe the hospital and beyond, maybe they'd heal her up and he'd keep on running with her, away from the bastards who tried to hurt her. "You scared the crap out of me, Slayer. I know you're probably gonna say no, but we need to get you out of here."

It wasn't until he was kneeling right in front of her, reaching for her wet hair, to push it out of her face, that he noticed there was something different. Her eyes. They were blank. "Slayer, can you hear me?" They weren't just blank, they were opaque, filmed. "Buffy!" He began to back up, but it was too late.

She was weaker than she'd been, and she was bruised and banged up. Even as she lunged at him, Spike had time to realize again that there was no one like her. No one with this much fight in them. His head smacked into the hardwood floor and he sighed inside himself. _ God, she's incredible._ She scampered up and over him and he rolled, grabbing her ankle and yanking her back down. A stifled cry of pain smote his heart. "Sorry, Baby." _She's too good to let her go out like this._ "Hold still!"

She kicked back, hitting him in the nose with her heel. Even in a weak human and a strong vampire, that's a powerful move.

Spike rolled back and held his smashed septum with a roar of pain, and then flew back up to his feet._ Time to earn the paycheck. Gonna keep her safe, even from herself..._

* * *

"O-kay, I'm gonna say it. I don't want to, but someone has to, for your own good." Xander had sat through the phone conversation and then Giles somewhat disoriented summary of the phone conversation, and now, as four of them sat, realizing that they had nothing to do but wait (like usual), he decided to deal with another pressing problem.

"What are you talking about?" Giles asked.

"You stink. You have this whiskey and too much tea funk going on."

"Xander! I am shocked that you speak to Mr. Giles in such a-"

"You're worse. I don't think you've showered in two days, and even though you're rocking the manly unshaved look-"

"You so are." Willow added drowsily.

"-you _do not_ pull off the 'way too much liquid diet with no sleep' cologne."

"When teenage guys say you smell- you _smell._" Willow beamed up at them goofily.

"It's been a bit hectic." Giles self-consciously looked at Wesley.

"I imagine it'll be half an hour or more before they can get her to a hospital. They sounded fairly isolated." Wesley nodded. "I can't imagine how she suffered such a fall."

"Must've been trailing Collins. I did speak to her earlier, but she sounded too distraught to -"

"This is what happens! You get distracted from the niceties of personal hygiene- like showering- because you have great big brains and surprisingly un-stuffy hearts. But for the love of God- take a ten minute break!"

The Watchers looked at each other. "You do seem quite rank." Giles smiled slightly at Wesley.

"You seem quite delirious." Wesley said with all the dignity he could muster. "I prefer to think of this as the sweat of honest effort."

"If I'm delirious it's only because I've been up every hour or so, dealing with some crisis or other! That doesn't diminish the fact that-"

"I need to go back to bed." Willow stood up abruptly. "I know it's daytime, but I've been up half the night. And when I get overtired I giggle and drop small objects."

"She does." Xander confirmed.

"Wesley, will you drive me home?"

"I- yes, of course. I suppose I could stop and get a change of clothes myself."

"What a nifty idea." Xander discreetly gave Willow a low five and mouthed "thank you".

"I suppose I can take a break as well." Giles sighed and ushered the two of them to the door. "Reconvene shortly?"

"I'll be over as soon as I can."

"Oh, stop and see Joyce, please, Wesley. Let her know Buffy's on her way to the hospital. But- after you've shaved."

Wesley pursed his lips once, and then nodded. Willow smiled up at Giles and waved- before she giggled and tripped over the top step.

Giles shut the door with a sigh. "I think she may have inhaled some of the casting incense."

"She was sitting between you guys. I'm surprised she didn't just stick it up her nose." Xander snagged the cell phone from Giles constantly tense grip. "Go on. Water, soap, rubber ducky. It'll come back to you."

"Is it really that bad?" Giles looked appalled.

"No. You just looked like you were ready to crash and burn. Taking care of everyone but yourself sucks. But we appreciate it."

Giles paused for a moment before answering. "If I weren't so tired and disgusting, I would be quite moved."

"Why I did it now." Xander joked and laid back on the couch. "I'll babysit the phone. You go rediscover the joys of shampoo and hot water."

"Do shut up."

"On it." Xander closed his eyes and tucked the phone under his head.

* * *

Spike wrangled Buffy into a position where she was pinned under him, holding her wrists to the floor. "Hey! _Hey_, look at me! Talk to me! It's Spike, Slayer, and I-" _I know you're in there._ Only as he looked down at her, he had the horrible feeling that he knew nothing of the kind anymore.

He hauled her up, her struggling and grunting out unintelligible things, sounding so pained and pitiful. He held her tight with one arm just to stroke the back of her head. "Easy. Easy, no one is gonna hurt you." Another hissing sound, an angry, desperate sound, but it made no sense. "We're gonna get in the car, we're gonna take you to someplace where they can make you better, make all this go away.

"Ungh!" She squirmed away from him with a herculean effort, only to fall weakly to the floor, and start crawling away.

_She's afraid of me. And she's -_ Spike caught her again, this time around the waist and cradled her, even as she was thrashing, making little soothing, hushing sounds for all the good it did. _She's not in there right now. At least Dru, in her grief, in her rage, in her silly, childlike moments, she was always Dru._

"What's happening to you? What's happened?" Spike jerked her around desperately to face him, and was confronted with almost gray eyes, and head that lolled and twitched. He shuddered and released her for a second, and she was turning tail to run again.

* * *

There was nothing left that made sense inside. Or perhaps a better way would be to say that she no longer had a sensible explanation in her mind, twisted or deranged as those thoughts had become, she no longer had them. Sometimes words and images leaked through, but almost everything was driven by pure fear and adrenaline, instinct.

If one could listen in on the thoughts in her mind they would hear only an ever increasing chant of, _Run. Fight. Flee. Run. Get away. Fight them off. Run. Run. Run..._

* * *

He tried to coax, he tried to explain, he tried shouting, he tried hitting. Nothing broke through the misty wall he could see glimpses of when he looked in her eyes.

"I know you can hear me! You're still in there!" Spike ground out, inches from her face. "I'm gonna get you back. You're gonna be fine, if you just-" he grappled with her, "if you just lemme-" she clawed him across the face and he vamped, snarling at her, "if you lemme help you!"

She wailed out a screech that made the air pulse and his fangs sink back into his gums as if swallowed in quicksand. Blue eyes blinked heartbrokenly at her. "Do you know who I am? Who _we_ are?" He begged, pinning her wrists in still fists, locking them at her sides.

"Please." She gasped out, and fell against the wall.

Nothing else for it. He closed his eyes, and seemed to relieve another moment, a moment from just about a year ago, in his own pain-filled mind.

He raised his arm. This time it was empty. Then it had held a crowbar.

He said the same words this time as he'd said the last time. "Sorry, Baby."

He struck.

A woman ended up at his feet, unconscious.

"I don't have much time."

* * *

"That didn't take too long." Xander held the ringing phone in his hand. "G-man! Buffster's calling!"

"I'll be right out!" Giles shouted from the shower, hastily rinsing shampoo from his hair.

"I got it!" Xander flipped open the phone. "Buffy?"

"No, she's in no shape to talk. Listen, I-"

"Spike! Spike?" Xander stood up, all traces of the forced calm he'd been using lately vanishing. "GILES!"

"Bloody hell." Spike drew the phone away from his ear.

"You! Did you hurt her? So help me, Spike if you hurt her, what you did to Willow and me is going to seem like-"

"I never laid a hand on her!" Spike carried the prone form of the Slayer to the couch, and kept one eye on her as he backed to the closet.

"Then how do you have her phone? How did you find her, how did-"

"I'm the fucking backup, the bodyguard, you idiot!" Spike roared. "Now put the Watcher on the phone!"

"You wanna negotiate? Let me tell you-"

"I don't wanna make a deal, I wanna save her!" Spike punched through the wooden interior of the closet in a burst of desperation. "I wanna save her! My God, you stupid boy, you're wasting time! I'm going to lose her and if I lose her, I will- I will come down there and tear your stomach out through your face! Put him on. Put. Him._ On_!"

Xander turned to find Giles standing in a robe, dripping and staring. "Um. It's Spike. He uh- he needs your help." Xander gave him the phone with a deeply shaken expression, pale and stunned.

Giles swallowed. "Thank you." He took the phone, and in the silence they could hear the faint ostinato crackling across the line:

_Stay with me, Slayer. Stay with me, Baby. Stay with me..._

* * *

"What happened?" Giles became brisk as the momentary shock of the moment wore off and he took command of himself.

"I don't know what's happened, I just know what's happening now." Spike took the coil of rope from the closet, shaking the life preserver and an oar out of his way. She was stirring again, thrashing awake, eyes moving like pinballs under closed bluish lids. "You said no spell. You said maybe she was sick, but I have to say there is nothin' in this world that'd make her so sick so fast."

"Sick how? What's she doing?"

"Screamin'. Talkin' to herself, runnin' from me, runnin' from things she can't see. She's insane. Round the twist, lost her marbles, gone to-"

"Spike! Stop the litany of expressions. I can't believe Buffy's gone 'insane', even if she is-"

"Her eyes aren't green anymore. They're gray. They're turnin' to milk white and all she does is whimper. And scream." His voice broke. "She's not like this. I don't care what you say about strain, Watcher, this is not my Slayer."

The words "My Slayer" did not go unnoticed, but for some reason it was only another stab in an already overburdened heart. "They got to her." Giles whispered gravely.

"I know. But how? If there wasn't anything in your spell search or whatever-"

"You said she passed out. Maybe she was attacked-"

"Not a mark on her!"

"I don't know of anything that can cause symptoms of insanity except a spell or a potion!" Giles shouted back.

* * *

Xander slunk off and found the house phone. He dialed. "Wills? Yeah, I know you just got back. Um. You might want to borrow your mom's car keys. Yes, now."

* * *

"If Collins is up there-"

"Who's Collins?"

"The hit man!"

"What hit man?"

"Didn't Buffy tell you? I only talked to her a short time ago." Giles frowned.

There was a low moan on the other end of the line and a frantic whisper of "It's okay. It's okay, I just put your hands there so you can't hurt yourself, alright? You're gonna be fine, and you can tie me up all you want later. I might enjoy it." A pained sound. "C'mon, Buffy, I know you're in there. I have your Watcher on the phone, d'you want to-"

A frustrated screech and a crash as the phone was knocked from his hand.

In Sunnydale, Giles sank down on the floor, and Xander paced, gulping. "Spike? Is Buffy- how is Buffy?"

"Ah. Yeah. She uh-" Spike tried not to sound as choked up as he was when he retrieved the phone, "she keeps tryin' to run, an' last time she ran, she threw herself off this mountain an' I had a devil of a time gettin' her to breathe again. So. She's gonna be pissed with me when she's back to her old self. I had to keep her still and-" He didn't know why he was saying this. It'd only make them hate him, maybe hunt him down and kill him. He didn't really give a damn. He had to say it. He felt guilty as hell and ashamed and desperate to hear someone say that he was doing what he had to, to help her. No one ever realized that before. Not his mum. Not Dru. "I held the phone up to her, but she's not herself right now." He concluded hoarsely.

"He tied her up?" Xander hissed.

"She threw herself off a mountain? How in heaven's name-"

"I can catch if I have to. Vampire reflexes." Spike tried to stroke Buffy's hair, but she snapped at him. "Fuck this, look, I'm doin' what I have to, 'cause she's gonna hurt herself if I don't, and I told her I wouldn't let anyone hurt her. Not even herself, so- tell me what to do. There's gotta be some spell you can zap her with long distance. There has to be something we can do!"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking." Giles was up and pacing now. "Have you seen anyone in the area that you didn't recognize? Gone someplace where he might have slipped her something? Maybe not a spell, but a- a drug of some kind."

"It can't be a drug, Slayers fight off drugs pretty damn quick." He frowned.

"I know, you're right in most cases. Everything run of the mill that isn't instantly fatal, even some things that are, would be worked through by a Slayer metabolism. She'd have to repeatedly be injected with it."

In the ensuing thoughtful silence, the sound of pained grunts filled the line. "Hey! Buffy, stop that, you're going to pull your wrist out of- oh bloody hell, can you just hold-"

"Have to run. Run." Her head thrashed.

"Giles, what if he's hurting her? " Xander punched the Watcher's arm in an open palmed shove. Even as he said it, he doubted it. There was something in the absolute fury in his voice that the teen recognized. Very few people in your life generated that kind of sound. They were people that were part of yourself. If they hurt you hurt. He was hurting. But still... "Why did you pick him?"

"Because he called to warn me about the plan, right from the start." Giles hissed and brushed his hand off.

"He- what?" The discussion was left behind as the phone burst back into noisy life.

"Her heart rate's goin' through the roof!" Spike shouted. At this painful moment, he was behind her, had his hands in the loop of boating rope that had her wrists snagged together, using his weight to anchor her. "Buffy, Babe, please, try to hear-"

"No!" She shoved both shoulders back, fell against him, and then lay still, panting on her side.

Spike's voice reappeared, broken sounding and exhausting. "She is killin' herself. Something inside her is burning her, from the inside out. So help me. If you don't say somethin' helpful, Watcher, an' I'll -" _I'll turn her. I'll turn her just to see her stop dying. _

_ That never works, does it? Turning them to stop the disease. You know what else never works? Turnin' someone to change 'em. Look at you, Sweet William. Aren't you still the same lovestruck, broken hearted boy you were a hundred odd years ago?_

"Don't do anything rash." Giles warned. "If you care about her-"

"Shut up!" He spat, not to deny, not to admit, just because he didn't want to think about how much he did care. How very much it hurt to care.

"Bees! It could be bees. She could be getting stung multiple times. And each time the-wait. Do they make demon bees?" Xander leapt into the conversation with a snap of his fingers.

"No marks!" Spike kept his wet boot between her wrists, pressing hard to keep her still, and stay out of the way of her flailing legs. He scooted the toe in so that it rubbed between her shoulder blades. "I have your back, Slayer. Gonna get you out of this, alright? Gonna get you out in a minute." He spat back into the phone. "I'm makin' promises I can't keep here, Watcher. There are no demon bees, and nothin' has stung her."

"The- the water! Could it be in the water?"

"The water's been fine. Rusty but fine. I wash up in it all the time, brush my teeth and shower in it and-"

"Vampires brush?" Xander sounded surprised.

"We floss, too, if we eat senior citizens, but that isn't the point! It's not the water, and the food is delivered at the ranger station and we pick it up, it's from the local market. We're in the effing mountain reserve in the middle of bloody Oregon, and I don't care if you know, if everyone knows, because the hit man's already here and the girl is already dying!" He struck out and left another dent in the abused cabin. Beneath him, Buffy jerked.

All the pieces came together quickly in Giles' mind, as they probably would have come together in all of their minds, had there not been so many pieces of the puzzle missing and concealed, passed from one party to the next, but never to all, always afraid to share too much, always desiring to protect the others.

"Collins. Collins has been there for several days. She started acting oddly a few days ago, and Travers told Wesley she'd be dead in about two days."

"She's a fighter, she made it to three." Spike wiped his bloody knuckles across his welling eyes, bending to touch her only to feel her recoil. "But even in three days, never seen anyone but a ranger."

"He's a secret agent hit man. He could probably do a ranger disguise. He'd probably want to die of shame, but he could pull it off." Xander interjected.

"It's not one of them, I've seen all of them together when I signed the papers to rent this place, when I ordered the food. I've seen them, smelled them, heard them -" He paused. The smell of the ranger. The smell in the woods of a single human. He assumed was a ranger because he smelled it the night someone delivered the food. "Shit!"

"What?" Giles and Xander demanded in unison.

Spike pushed the phone under his jaw with one hand and struggled with Buffy using the other. Talking and dragging a resisting, fight until her last breath type of girl made his speech come out in bursts. "Other night. The food was delivered. Never saw who did it. _Figured _it was a ranger. But it didn't have to be. It was left outside. Someone- hang on-" He forced Buffy into a wooden chair at the small table, and looped the long tail of the rope over it. He bent to look into her eyes. "Hey?" He whispered. "Don't listen to the pixies, Beautiful. Listen to me. Right here." Finger tips from his eyes to hers. "You wanna come back. Holdin' you still until the bad things stop chasin' you We're right here waiting for you."

Buffy fell silent. He was encouraged. "That's right, everyone's waitin' for you. Your little mates and your mum and your- yeah. Me, too." He coaxed. He thought he could see a glimmer of green underneath the thick gray irises. "Slayer?"

_He caught you. He caught you and chained you and you can't run. Prisoner. He has the rest. Your friends. Your mother. You thought he had your back? He's beaten you and chased you and tied you to - something. _

Something else seemed to break, and tears leaked out of her eyes.

"I'm tired of hanging on!" Giles shouted. "Oh. Hello Willow."

* * *

"I ran three stop signs and I think I hit a squirrel!" Willow came in, speaking frantically. "What's happening?"

"Spike had some big idea."

"I had to put her someplace safe." Spike returned to the conversation. "It's called multitasking. Now then." His eyes still on her, he moved to the cabinet and fridge. "Someone could have put somethin' in the food. If you say this Collins bastard is out here, I'm willin' to bet he put somethin' poisonous somewhere."

"It's a Trojan horse. You'd take it in, and she'd keep eating, never knowing."

"An' the weaker she got, the more I fussed an' tried to make her eat to keep up her strength."

"I'm sorry, I'm stuck back on the Spike part. Spike? Bottle through my face, kidnapped us guy?" Willow tugged Xander's arm.

"He's on our side for a minute."

"What? Are you serious? You can't trust Spike! He used lab equipment as a deadly weapon! School property! That's like- academic murder, and I-"

"Wills. He's-" Xander left Giles and Spike frantically speaking, just enough to pull Willow to the side, "He's seriously on our side. He's been the guy. The bodyguard the whole time. Um." He looked away, then tried to look brave. "Buffy's not doing too good. She's kind of- I mean, it sounds like, she's just... kind of...dying."

Willow's face crumpled. "No. No, no, no! See- we- we did the 'fake death thing so there would be no real death' thing! I've been lying, and crying, and we had a service! I spoke in public, Xander! She can't be-" Sobbing ensued, and Xander wrapped her in a hug and rocked her. "It can't happen! It's not allowed to happen!"

"Shhh. Shh. We're not gonna let it happen. I never thought i'd say this- but Spike is freaking out and trying to save her."

"Are you saying Spike's the good guy?"

"Makes you wanna puke, right?"

"Yeah." She sniffled in hard. "But if- but if he saves her- I am totally going to call us even about kidnapping and bottle face remarks."

"Even?"

"Slightly in my favor."

"I'm gonna give Giles heck for this though."

"Totally."

Willow wiped at her face. "Should we get Buffy's mom over here?"

"Wes was heading there. We can call her and get them both." Behind them Giles let out a string of curses. "In a minute."

* * *

A litter of boxes and cartons adorned the sink, ripped open, sniffed, tasted, nothing. "I can't find it."

"What has she eaten?"

"Hardly anything. Neither of us can cook worth a damn."

"Spike!"

"I'm thinkin'! Uh." he surveyed the mess in front of him. "Cereal. Pop tarts. Crackers. Peanut butter. Eggs."

"Check the peanut butter."

"Buffy loves peanut butter." Willow sniffled.

"I tasted it, nothing." Spike walked warily towards Buffy who seemed to be sitting in a prolonged shiver, hunched shoulders shaking.

"Look at the jar. Is it glass?"

"No it's plastic, it's- damn that crafty bastard." Spike found it with his keen eyes. In the center dimple on the bottom, where the machines that made the jars pulled away and left a minute plastic bump- there was a black speck. Only as he ran his finger over it, Spike could tell that there was a tiny break. A puncture. "It's the peanut butter. There's a hole, like a syringe mark." He went through the fridge now, looking at the orange juice in its plastic bottle, the half carton of eggs left, the milk in its cardboard carton. "Eggs are fine, the middle'd run out a hole and crack the shells...juice would leak, milk would leak- unless he-" Spike popped the spout out and there, just above the square body of the container was another hole. "When I find him, I'm going to kill him. Messily. In a way that lives up to my name." Spike seethed.

"Hear hear!" Willow cheered. "I mean. No. Stop. Human life."

"They need him to testify against Travers." Giles muttered. "Spike- put that on hold will you?"

"Yeah, right, first things first."

"How is she?"

"Shakin' like a leaf and her eyes've gone all cloudy."

"Can you smell anything, anything at all, or taste anything unusual in the food?"

"No, an' I never touch that stuff. He was smart. He put it in things she'd have a couple times a day. Goddamn him to-" He shook his head. _First things first. Save the girl_. "He poisoned it, but with what?"

"I'm thinking. Something to cause madness and fear and distorts the eye color..."

"She's smelled like fear." Spike murmured softly. "That's somethin' I noticed. This mornin', I couldn't even track her at first 'cause all I could smell was fear."

"Ah- they can make something like that! There are chemicals in the brain that- um-" Willow trailed off and looked between Giles and Xander, "they probably didn't have time to get Buffy's current brain chemistry levels and figure out exactly what dose of synthetic stuff to give her, huh?"

Giles turned his head and Xander shrugged. "There are fear demons."

"I don't know what you don't get but I'll say it again, no demons in the last few days!"

"No, Spike, I'm wondering if Collins' had some extract from one of them. The Watchers do have a large collection of demonic toxins for study."

"Fear demons make you dry heave an' scream a lot- which, okay, she did that, but she's been talkin' to herself in the windows an' faintin' in the woods, tryin' to off herself, outrun herself. That's madness. Believe me, I know."

"If we could get her blood analyzed, maybe we could-"

An abrupt and complete silence.

"She won't like that." Spike was the first one to speak.

"I don't like it either."

"She's already scared of me."

Giles paused, flummoxed. "Willow, Xander, go use the phone in my room. Call Joyce and Wesley, please." They left with worried nods, and the Watcher continued to speak to his charge's unlikely guardian. "Why do you care if she's scared of you?"

"She's never been scared of me before. She's not afraid of anything but losing people and gettin' her heart broken."

_Maybe I shouldn't have had them go alone. Or make that list. _ Giles rubbed his temples. "I need every diagnostic tool I can, Spike, and you said you can't subdue her enough to get her into a car."

"It's broad, bloody daylight now as well."

"You don't need much. You're already familiar with the taste."

_Familiar with_ her _taste._ So sweet and rich and addictive. Healing him. Loving him. Pleasing her, pleasing them both, and now- taking it when she was helpless and dying. He felt his insides pulse forward as if trying to go up his throat. "Gimme a minute." He put the phone on its side on the counter.

* * *

Blue eyes and white face. Soft words she couldn't understand anymore. Soft hands. Her muscles ached and she rocked forward and back unsure whether or not touch was good now. Smoothing hands down her sore arms and up to her face, thumbs and palms against her skin. Buffy blinked up. _Maybe it's safe outside now?_

Fangs and deep yellow eyes with cold ridges above.

Her shattering scream scared them both, making the chair topple back and taking him with it. He heard a crunch from under the wood and he wondered for a minute if he'd broken part of the floor or her pretty little wrists. "I'm sorry, Slayer, I'm so sorry, just a tiny little nick, Luv, gotta make sure it's fresh an' then I'll kiss it better." A fang grazed her shoulder and pulled once, twice, trying to keep her still and keep her calm, neither of which was happening.

Two men, a day's journey apart, felt their hearts breaking.

_She sounds so scared._

_ She's so scared of me._

_ That is not the girl I saw become a woman._

_ That is not the Slayer I saw rise out of the water like some bloody Lady of the Lake, claimin' the power for herself. _

Spike rose and set her upright, checking her arms, and spitting as the blood sat in his mouth. "Oh fuck, that's _foul _!"

"What is it? What?" Giles demanded.

"Demon. Grah." He spat again. "There's a reason vamps don't go after other demons. Not for food anyway." More spitting, while he also tried to soothe the frightened female. "This is even worse, must be more than one kind, maybe two or three. Not vampire, that's all I know. Tastes of fear and somethin' else."

"Spike, stay on the line, and try to calm her down. I have a phone call to make."

* * *

"There's a call for Mr. Fallows."

"We're in the middle of a testimony." Fallows glared at the unfortunate clerk who interrupted the proceedings.

"It is from Rupert Giles. He says he has urgent evidence that must be given immediately, because he's got his- hrm- hands full and has no time for- erm- bloody etiquette right now."

Travers suddenly looked interested instead of bored, and the entire panel present in the boardroom noticed.

"We'll allow it. What line?"

"Line three, Sir."

"Mr. Giles." Fallows moved back from the conference table to the phone on the stately carved sidebar. After a moment, his face changed from a look of concentration to a look of suppressed pleasure. "I'm going to ask you to repeat that. For the members of the board."

A voice, punctuated by pops and clicks, flowed into the crowded board room. "The Slayer's been poisoned. Her food was injected with something that causes intense anxiety, fear, loss of strength, and a decline in mental functioning."

A chorus of murmurs engulfed the room, and Travers turned pasty.

"I can't imagine where most criminals would be able to procure toxins that would have the effect, and fear demon bile or other secretions are quite unusual. Then I thought to myself- 'Where is a place that has a neatly labeled collection of demonic substances used for study? And who would have access to them?'."

"Newcombe, Aberswyth, head to the apothecary and herbal storage rooms. You-" He gestured at another young Watcher, "page the head of that department and get all his staff in there. Get all of _anyone's _staff in there! I want to know if anything is missing from that storeroom and exactly how much of it is gone. The meeting will reconvene after we've investigated this matter. Mr. Travers- consider yourself given an additional three days of holding time. New evidence, you see."

Travers said nothing, as he found himself removed form the room where he once held sway.

"Wonderful, Fallows. Stir everyone up." Giles' tired and somewhat bitter voice cut through the confusion. "Call me back when you have the information? Or, as is far more likely, we'll call you when _we_ have it." He hung up. "Oh, and tell them to start with fear demons. Save yourselves some time."

* * *

"Spike? Spike?"

The vampire didn't answer. He sat with the open phone held loosely between his fingers, watching her rage in the cage of her own mind. Each time he spoke to her or reached for her, she twisted back, looking at nothing with those horrible faux cataract eyes.

Something inside her had been breaking all day, and now something inside him snapped as well. Maybe it was the last link that had been holding him to preconceived ideas or old dreams he was hellbent on carrying out.

_It was different with Drusilla. The crying and the brokenness suddenly gives way to giggles and tea parties, and for Slayer- this is the end of her. This doesn't give way, this doesn't let up. There'll be no peace, there'll be no happiness. Nothing by turns. It's only getting worse and worse. _

_ What I've seen in one hour with her is worse for me that everything I've ever seen Dru go through. Oh what he did to her was worse. She's suffered longer. Until it became her, until it is her. _

_ I don't want her._

_ Maybe that means I'm a faithless son of a bitch, but I'm not Dru's bitch. _

"Spike!" Giles, Xander, and Willow bellowed together.

"Here!"

"Is she calmer? Any change?"

"Yeah. She's quiet. She's not herself though." Spike's voice quivered slightly and he eased a cigarette into his mouth, hoping he could mask the shaking with the blowing of smoke. "You've got two Watchers an' a witch there, an' you've got me, a type who's run into a thousand different kinds of demons. Between us, we have to be able to stop this with a spell, or narrow it down to figure out what sort of beastie's bite is in her."

"I'm trying to think. Demons that cause madness. Xander, get the _Holtzfus Demonology Guide_, look under insanity, and if that doesn't work, look under madness. Willow, _Bristow's Demon Index_ and _Hell's Offspring_, check the same. Also try clouded eyes, or eyes, hallucinations..." He trailed off. "Wesley's finally about to be good for something. He's a ridiculously bookish person."

"And this from the librarian. You know that's extreme bookishness." Xander went to the bookshelves and began dragging out the heavy volumes mentioned.

"What do I do? Sit here and watch her die?" Spike spat angrily.

"At least you can see her." Giles spat back.

That silenced both of them.

* * *

_Five minutes later..._

"Let me talk to my baby!" Joyce stormed into the house, and Wesley, more neat than an hour or so ago, followed her in.

"You can try but it might not go as you expect." Giles let her have the phone.

"Buffy!"

"Hi, Mrs. Summers." Spike was too tired to try to conceal anything.

"Are you the bodyguard?" Joyce's brows lowered and raised.

"In one." He scooted closer to his unwilling but necessary prisoner.

"Have we met?"

"Couple times. Three, I think. You make a mean cup of cocoa, Joyce."

Joyce's eyes widened and the color drained from her face. "You. Gave. My. Daughter. _To a __**vampire**_?" She rounded on Giles, who was hurriedly filling Wesley in on everything and asking him to think of what demons might fit the description.

"Yes. You can shout at me later. I'm too busy trying to save her life right now." He dropped a heavy book in her arms. "The index is on page 832. Start by cross referencing madness and clouded eyes."

"But- but-"

"Your Mum, Slayer. Say hi." Spike pressed the phone towards Buffy. A sobbing shake of her head and a violent flail away was all he got in reply. "Sorry, Luv. She's not herself right now."

_Drusilla's been herself this whole time. That's who she is. She's broken and it's not fair, and she's mad and it's no good for anyone. But it is who she is. This isn't madness after all. This is death of a mind._

"Oi!" Spike stood up and shouted. "Watcher-boys. There's a demon, some slimy bald thing, forget the name- but it literally poisons the mind, isn't that right? Bald and slimy-"

"With milky white or gray eyes!" Wesley looked thrilled and smacked his forehead in boyish satisfaction. "Glargk Guhl Kashma'nik."

"Uh. Bless you?" Xander looked at him worriedly.

"Of course! Why didn't I think of it at once? It's a demon that attacks the mind_, _it causes powerful hallucinations. If the victim lives past the initial sting, they will eventually suffer from the same opacity. Though that's rare. The nervous system is usually so corrupted from the overtaxing in the brain's limbic system that the brain simply hm... Rapidly decomposes."

A horrified stillness filled the room, and the gratified look on Wesley's face slowly faded. "Oh dear."

"Didn't they have a course in bedside manner at Watcher School?" Willow patted Joyce's arm comfortingly and settled protectively near her.

Apparently they didn't teach that course at vampire school either, because Spike's static laden voice demanded, "Shut the fuck up about what it already did and tell me what to do with it _now_!"

"Ah. Yes, there is an antidote."

"Thank God." A thankful chorus breathed.

"In the demon's tail. At the bulb of the stinger."

"I don't think this guy is carrying the demon around with him! Even if he was, I don't have time to go hunt it down, rip off its sting and get it back here before she goes AWOL."

Giles agreed nodding. "Perhaps there's one in town, a wide variety of demons are in the Hellmouth after all, or I may be able to call one forth or, Willow, perhaps that magic shop has some black market connections or-"

Spike tuned out all the possibilities to watch her. She was no longer the blonde, beautiful, girl he'd first called Cutie and mockingly applauded. She was no longer the bitch he respected. Or the brave heart and unbeatable ray of sunshine he'd learned to love. She was a shivering wreck, with nothing left in her except enough fear to make an army faint. And still she was trying. To escape, he imagined, watching her twist and tug.

He moved a little too slow, admiring her for a second too long. With a long wail that tugging and twisting had pulled her shoulder out of its socket.

"Slayer!" He dropped the phone on the table and started undoing the rope, couldn't bear to see her like this anymore. "Here, easy does it... you're gonna be fine, we know what's wrong. Now we just have to fix it, alright? You stay with me."

She didn't struggle. She fell limp over his arm.

* * *

"How long has she been exposed to this?" Wesley asked Giles.

"Several days. Several doses."

"Heavens. Are you sure she's still alive?"

Wesley would later admit he deserved the punch in the face.

Cradling a swelling jaw, Wesley swallowed a little blood and apologized. "Sorry, thoughtless of me. I'm amazed she's still alive. But the crisis should come soon. When the nervous system can no longer absorb anymore poison it simply- well, it's rather like an explosion. Everything saturates and-" The eyes glaring daggers at him made him concluded with a forceful, "We must get up there with an antidote. Giles, you've summoned demons before, I suggest you call one up, I'll remove the barb, Willow, you provide a protective shield around us, and we'll get it up there within a few hours."

"You don't have a few hours." Spike, the member of the conversation who was easiest to forget, as his presence was contained in a small black rectangle perched on the desk, spoke. "I never heard a human heart go like this. Like it's drowning. She's not fighting anymore." He could stroke her hair now, letting it fall in sweaty mats over his damp jeans as she lay sprawled against him.

"That'll be the brain losing control of its involuntary functions." Wesley whispered.

Joyce gasped out a sob, and Willow choked back one.

"But we can't give up! Buffy never gives up!" Xander urged.

"It's in the brain? Is it _all_ in the brain?" Spike asked quietly.

"Ah- well, it's throughout her system, but the brain is storing it and sort of distributing it, if you will." Wesley explained grimly.

"And if the brain were better- if it had no toxins in it?"

"She'd probably be sick for a few hours and then be well again, but unfortunately-"

"Shut up." Giles elbowed him. He knew what Spike had thought, because he'd also just had the same realization.

"Heal the mind. Heal the mind, does that mean heal the brain?" Spike asked urgently, sliding to his knees now.

"I think it does!" Giles called back excitedly, and rummaged in the bottom drawer of his desk, tearing open a leather box, rummaging again, before holding up Spike's promised payment.

"Heavens, is that Menfra's Eye? Where did you get that?" Wesley asked curiously. "Would you mind if I had a quick look at-"

He would later admit he deserved the kick in the shins.

"Use it! Use the goddamn Eye. Heal the brain, heal the mind, that's where the venom is, init?"

Giles was honest in his shock, even though he was already practicing his incantations, letting the Eye speak to him. "You recall, don't you? That there's only one owner, Spike. One owner, one use for who knows how long. The deal was that you got it if Buffy remained alive, and this may be the only way to achieve that. But you can't use it on Buffy, and then heal Drusilla."

"Ohhh." Willow and Xander exchanged a knowing look.

"You're not going to worry about that are you?" Joyce demanded. "Buffy is _dying_."

"I have to know that he knows." Giles informed her sharply. He would do it anyway. He would do anything to prevent her death. But what good would it be if Spike in his rage at losing the prize he sought, attacked the already weak and helpless girl? If only by some miracle he would understand that and still agree to-

"Then you'd better help me find a second Eye or some other way, but just use it now, or she's a goner. Her heart's bubbling over."

"Will it work from this far away?" Willow asked anxiously.

"It will work anywhere in the world, it all depends on thoughts and the incantation of 'he who possesses' the Eye. I can do this. I simply need quiet to let the Eye speak to me."

"The Eye-" Joyce began to frown and then nodded and held clasped hands to her lips.

It didn't take long, maybe a second. It was one of the longest seconds Spike had ever had, and that's considerable for the undead.

He whispered, rocking her, lifting her up, lips against her throat, to keep track of the fading pulse. "You come back to me. You come back to me, 'cause you promised not break my heart. We said we both break promises, but we're gonna cross that off the list, alright? You promise not to hurt me, I promise not to hurt you. Ever. But you gotta come back."

* * *

He spoke in her language, the ancient Etruscan tongue, because that was what the Eye seemed to teach him. _"Goddess Menfra, bestower of your eternal sight, weaver of many threads and healer of minds, we ask you to bind together the wounded psyche of_ Buffy Summers."

The stone set in the golden oval had glowed and now it dimmed.

"Well. We tried."

* * *

Her world came rushing back.

_Joyce appeared first, beckoning her away from the dark. "Sweetie, I love you for who you are, and you'll always be my daughter. No matter what, that doesn't change. I'm proud of you. I might be scared to death- but I'll always be proud."_

_ "You know you tried, B. I'm still alive. I might surprise you, Little Sister." Faith winked and waved with a little smile._

_ "I kept secrets. I played dangerous games. But you tired to help me." Jenny pushed her from behind. _

_ Giles caught her as she seemed to fall. "Don't you know you're the only family I have?"_

_ "No one_ made _us be friends with you, Buffster. We_ wanted t_hat. Knowing all we know-" Xander looked at Willow, who nodded, "we'd do it again."_

"_You do what you can. Love sacrifices." Angel handed her back the sword. "Don't worry about me. I knew what I was doing. I think you might be better off now."_

_"You can't save everyone." Kendra waited at the end of the dark tunnel. "But you're the only one who has saved the world a few times. I think that counts. You have a lot more to do before you're done."_

_ "What's real?" Buffy remembered both the true events and the illusions she'd experienced with sickening clarity. _

_ "Don't let fear win." Kendra told her sternly. "You're stronger than you think. You're the Slayer. You have to wake up." _

_Buffy looked into a silvery pool, saw herself on just the other side of it. Wake up._

Her pulse got stronger, her heartbeat regulated, but her eyes didn't open.

* * *

"Baby, please come back to me, come back to me." He said it in an endless rocking chant. Nothing. He changed his tone, frowned down on her, trying to keep his lips set. "You know, I know what you're doin'. You're bein' a brat. You're bein' stubborn. A stubborn, bratty bint. 'Cause you think I'm gonna leave you like the others, or I'm gonna pull some punch. Well, I'm not. I'm gonna get you through this. I'll have your back. You know what, how about this- you come back," He propped her head up in his palm, "and I'll give you a lifetime's supply of bein' your second set of eyes? You an' me. Not sayin' I'll go good- but I'll be good enough. Huh? All you gotta do is come back. To me."

Her eyes opened.

"Slayer?" She blinked. "Say somethin'." Spike prodded cautiously.

She didn't. She sobbed and pulled herself up his chest with her one good arm, hugging him tight. "I didn't know where I was and everyone was after me and- and-"

"Shhh. Shhh. No one's gonna hurt you."

"Did I hurt anyone? Oh my God, look at you."

"Love bites, Kitten." He wiped at her own scratched hands as they came up to his cheeks. "No worries." He held her tight and sighed thankfully. Then glared. "You ever do that again an' I'll kill you myself!"

"Okay." She laughed brokenly. "Oh wow... Did I almost...?"

"Yes, you did! You bloody well very, very nearly did. Watcher boy did a little magic and fixed you up. You took your sweet time comin' out of it though, I thought he was gonna have to ask for a refund on that little trinket of his."

Buffy smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder, still in pain, still woozy, but suddenly very clear headed. "I'm back."

"I know."

"I heard you. I heard what you said. I couldn't turn that down."

"You- heard me?" His scratched face transformed into a rapturous smile. "You could hear me."

"I can always hear you."

* * *

"Um. When should we remind them that we're still on the phone?" Wesley asked in an intensely embarrassed voice as seconds passed.

"One more minute? Pleeeease?" Willow turned her big doe eyes to all the rest of the occupants. "It's so sweet. C'mon. It _is _sweet."

"You did not just say that." Xander gaped.

"I'm dating a werewolf. Maybe my scary to sweet ratio is a little skewed. It doesn't matter! Buffy's alive."

"Okay, okay, geez." He quirked a grudging half-smile. "One more minute."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	27. Chapter 27

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay folks, but that last chapter was long enough to hold you over, I hope. (In addition, I've been on the very injured list and unable to write much.)This will seem a bit anticlimactic in comparison to the previous chapter, but then again, how could it not? Minor smut, nothing intense. _

_Author's Second Note: For the guest reviewers- Thank you so much. I can't respond to you unless you log in, but i love that you review anyway! Thank you! _

_Author's Third Note: Unknown will have chapters again soon, I promise. This little story was supposed to be a two week quickie. Ha. I'm very bad at curbing my muse, but apparently no one minds! Don't worry though, none of my stories are abandoned. _

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, micmoc, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, Touch the Dark, hbmckidd, ValidescopeWest, Rachel, Alottalove, Cavementftw, ammuna, Seapea, Maire Ailbhe, Illusera, ShyL, Michelle, mike13z50, Loverswalk89, N172Shay, Suzanne, KittenofDoomage, Michelle, darkeyesgirl, LunaML, Haleycc, Slayergirl, shadowcat802, Bamboo Angel, jazzyjizzle1994, Loveisrealand4eva, kerry220, Clara Johnson, and sbyamibakura._

_I am in continual shock and amazement that so many readers are supporting me. I am truly grateful, thank you._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XXVII**

_Day Twenty Five..._

It took three or four minutes of concentrated shouting and throat clearing to get Buffy and Spike's attention. An angry mother's voice penetrates a make out session like nothing else though.

"Buffy Anne Summers! Pick up this phone _right now_!"

"Mom!" Buffy pulled back from Spike with a gasp. "Mom?" She turned and hissed at him, "They're on the phone? Why didn't you tell me they were still on the phone!"

"I was consumed with the you bein' alive an' all." He rolled his eyes, then smiled. "She's back to normal! If she had more energy, I think she'd have elbowed me."

"Give me that." Buffy blushed and tried to crawl across his leg to grab the phone. Given her dislocated shoulder and weakness, she gasped and rolled back over, wincing. "Ow..."

"Sweetie! Sweetie, talk to me." Joyce demanded.

"Can we call you back? Slayer needs a little patch job before-"

"Spike- I want to talk to my family. I can get fixed up later." She laid on her back, legs over his, back to the floor. She met his concerned eyes with a small smile. "Being hurt for a few minutes longer beats being dead forever."

"I wouldn't know." He cracked a wry smile. _And I'm glad I don't have to find out, as long as you're okay._

"Hi, Mom! Hi, guys!"

He watched her glow for them, and for a few minutes he was simply glad to bask in the light, and not worry about any remaining storms.

* * *

Wesley slunk off upstairs. He had been the one to identify the demon precisely. He should feel proud, feel useful. Yet, watching the emotional fall out of the four people downstairs, he felt strangely empty. _Am I only starting to find feelings for others now? I am a book on legs. A very, very put out book._

"Fallows, please."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fallows is in-"

"This is Wyndham- Pryce. I have information for him. Vital information."

He waited several minutes before he heard a harassed voice. "Hello, Pryce?"

"Glargk Guhl Kashma'nik." Wesley greeted him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Glargk Guhl Kashma'nik."

Fallows turned to the weary few who remained in the Council's chambers, the majority of them having left for a tea break, gone home, or still frantically searching the stores below. "Call down to Newcombe, someone. "I want to know if anything even remotely associated with Glargk Guhl Kashma'nik is missing."

Travers started in his chair, hand slipping from its casually confident prop under his chin, paling slightly.

The room sat tense and silent, except for Fallows muttered whispering into the phone.

"Is she alive?" Fallows asked uneasily.

"Yes. Unwell, but alive." Wesley said heavily.

"How did it happen? Did they see anyone?"

"Someone poisoned her food. Made sure she'd continue to ingest it. They saw no one, but I wouldn't worry too much. Once Buffy is back to full strength," _or Spike is out of her sight,_ "I imagine they'll hunt down the person responsible."

"Yes. Hm. If the person in question turns out to be-"

"Mr. Collins? We'll let you know."

"There's two vials of GGK venom missing from the storeroom!" Harbin burst back into the room, a log sheet held in front of him. "None has been checked out for study in three years, and now two full vials are gone!"

Travers let an almost sleepy look settle across his face as he internally rehearsed his lines. _Mere coincidence. A Slayer, a demon- a confrontation couldn't be more natural. You can't prove anything. My fingerprints have every right to be on every inch of this place. This is my kingdom. _He fought down a possessive snarl. _My kingdom and no one can take it from me. Even she is my servant, but they treat her like some god. She might be hand picked by the Universe - but without us, she is a mere freak, a mutant with no purpose in a world of ordinary humans. Without us, the Universe loses order. We bridge that gap. _

"Mr. Pryce, we'll have to call you back."

"We'll call you." Wesley hung up with a small, smug smile._ Buffy will find him first._

_Wait. Why I am proud? I didn't train her. I have hindered more than I helped- or at least that's all she'll realize_. From downstairs, he heard Giles laughing, for the first time in weeks, the rich, flowing sound of a heart light in relief. _She's not_ my _Slayer._

_ Still._

He plastered a broad grin on his face. "They've found the two vials of the demon's venom missing from Council Headquarters." He caroled as he went downstairs.

"Buff! Chief Butthead is practically caught red handed!" Xander cried excitedly.

* * *

"I'm sorry, but I can't be held responsible for someone improperly logging their test materials. Perhaps two were used and they forgot to record that. If you can prove that every poison and herb is perfectly inventoried-"

"No, Quentin." Fallows looked into the eyes of the man he'd worked alongside with, and then under, for thirty years. "We don't need to prove that. The fact that Buffy's Watcher just phoned to tell us that she was systematically ingesting the very toxin suddenly missing from under our own roof... There's some things you don't need to 'prove' are wrong by making sure everything else is right."

A slight flaring of the nostrils and raising of the tufted gray eyebrows accompanied Travers' voice, still trying to be cool and unbothered. "You take the word of Pryce? The man who you heard also wanted her dead?"

"Pryce, the man who strung you along, recording your conversations to turn into a board of inquiry."

The voice was becoming heated as it replied, "Pryce was in London only a few days ago for a family wedding! What is to say that he didn't come to Headquarters, -"

"He was with us." Fallows answered. "Not at some wedding. He was giving his evidence, and he was in the company of more than five Council employees. The more interesting question to this board is how two vials of such a dangerous substance happened to end up in the United States, into the food supply of a girl who's been missing for nearly a month?"

"And who said that it was so? Pryce. And who says it's poison that was stored in our laboratory vials? Even if that word was from an absolutely solid source, which I do not consider Wyndham-Pryce the younger to be, saying a certain type of poison was found in a slayer means nothing. A demon poisons a Slayer, it happens all the time. Vampires, demons- they kill Slayers."

"So no one would look too closely then, if she turned up dead from a a sting from a Glargk Guhl Kashma'nik!"

When you've been talked into a corner- laugh. It's not gentlemanly, but it's more confidence-inspiring than shouting defensively. So Travers chuckled. He laughed softly, shaking his head and even sighing. "You're so eager to sew up this 'case', this travesty in Council history, that you don't see all the pinholes in it. Very carefully crafted evidence, but it still has some tiny holes you refuse to see."

"Maybe we are no longer blindly following, as you seem to expect." Fallows murmured and closed his eyes wearily. "It's after tea, and we're all very tired. We have three days from this point to find Mr. Collins or receive new evidence. Clear the room, please. Quentin- have a pleasant stay, as the Council's guest."

* * *

_Forty minutes later..._

"I love you, too, Mom. Mom- _Mom_! Breathe! Look, I promise I'll call you as soon as I can! Like tonight or tomorrow morning."

"Buffy, come home. Come home now, _please_. There's still some deranged man out there." Joyce refused to let Giles take the phone from her grip.

"Not until we catch this guy. If they need him to talk to the Council guys, then we'll deliver. Besides- he- he made me sick. He made me crazy. You have no idea how much he hurt us." Buffy looked over at Spike, still sitting beside her, staring. Like he'd never see me again. "No idea." She repeated in whisper.

In the last few minutes, she'd talked to them all, she'd gotten to say the things she was afraid of- sort of.

* * *

_Twenty minutes ago..._

"I'm sorry I put you in so much danger, and I am sorry I can't do everything I should, maybe, but-"

"Buffy! Are you kidding? If you weren't here, we'd be so dead. So, _so_ dead. I'd probably be a vampire." Willow shuddered.

"Yeah, Buff, if you didn't include us in the fighting the good fight- I'd be pretty offended. That's like hogging all the good karma."

"I love you. I love you so much, you know that, right?"

"We love you too!"

"Of course we do, Buffy." Joyce chided.

"I never meant to mess up anyone's life or anything." Buffy sniffled, but her tears were happy.

"Oh, you mean that boring lull between my misspent youth and meeting you? Vastly improved." Giles informed her.

That was the Watcher equivalent of a big gushy speech.

"So, Watcher, who has also improved my life- I have vague recollections of there being a reason I went all loopy. Wanna fill me in?"

"His name is Collins..."

* * *

_Present..._

"I need to talk to you about this Spike person." Joyce said firmly.

"No. You don't." Buffy winced.

"Buffy." Joyce said sternly.

"Mo-om. He saved my life. And from the looks of him- he got set on fire and beaten with a shovel to do it."

"All you, Precious." Spike chuckled just loud enough for her ears. "Even at your weakest you're a vicious little thing."

"He jumped off a mountain to catch me. I remember that. And then... I don't remember much else. But he's a good bodyguard, and you need to let him do his job."

Joyce opened her mouth twice but nothing came out.

"She says that's fine, she'll see you later, love you, bye!" Willow answered speedily and then slammed the phone shut.

"Willow!"

"Oops?"

"I call sleep. If we sleep, we won't think about her sucking face with Spike." Xander grumbled. Willow glared. "Even reformed life-saving Spike is still a-" He caught Willow's frantic food nudging his own as Joyce seemed to lean in. Her face had a look he knew very well. Mom-wiggins. Guaranteed to make any young adult want to join the French Foreign Legion and never come back. And hey, one summer without Buffy was bad enough, two would just break the suck-o-meter. "Is still a person I do not want on my Christmas card list. Yet."

Joyce turned an began to grill Giles and Wesley.

"You owe me one." Xander hissed in Willow's ear.

"You can come sleep at my house? Mom bought pie. Oh, and she's probably going to have realized I took the car without asking by now, so I could use someone to be grounded with."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

"So... What the hell happened?"

"Let's just say blood does a body more good that certain kinds of milk." Spike stiffly stood and looked out at the bright sky.

"Let's say more than that. What the heck was going on? I mean- I kind of know what happened, but stuff is blurry or it's fading or it's- missing."

"You don't want to-" Spike purposely took her hand on the side of her dislocated side, and as she went to rise, he yanked hard and pushed against her chest with his foot before she could even gasp.

Buffy let out a shrill little scream and then sighed. "Ooh. That's better now."

"Goes smoother if you don't see it coming."_ He_ knew it had been coming. That slight crunching sound of socket meeting bone- he fought off a shudder. He now wanted a cig so bad he might have considered chewing it like shredded wheat. "Right, you're covered in grit an' what not, so let's get you into a nice hot shower, then-"

"Tell me what happened." She insisted.

He suddenly felt weak as she'd been. "In a minute."

* * *

_London..._

"Oh dear. Henly, was it?" Travers smiled paternally at the guard escorting him back into his "quarters".

"Yes, Sir?"

"I've just remembered something urgent. I have post that must get out as soon as possible. I may be 'on trial', but I am still responsible for keeping lines of communication open between us and our allies, putting through orders and assignments."

"Yes, Sir." Henly didn't stop escorting him.

"I may be temporarily in no position to perform other tasks, but these letters simply must go out. I shudder to think what will happen just because Fallows and a handful of crusaders neglect the day-to-day functioning of this Council."

"I'm sure that won't happen, Sir." Although- everyone did seem to be in a dreadful rush. And what does the head of Council do in his office all those hours, if not fill out important papers and send them off?

"They're in my office." Travers pressed.

"I'll notify Mr. Fallows and the secretarial staff, Sir. On your desk, is it?"

"Most of it, yes, but there's one piece I have_ inside_ my desk. Which has a coded lock." It didn't. But Henly wouldn't know that. The lowest of the low, a grunt who'd passed into the Watchers' ranks by the skin of his teeth and of course, as all Watchers, through family connections. Not so much nepotism, but the simple sense of keeping such secrets in the same families, making sure their operation remained hidden from public knowledge. _And its members loyal. Such sad times..._

"You can give someone the code then, Sir."

"It's encrypted. To touch."

Henly hesitated. "You'll have to have your post go out a day later, Mr. Travers. Mr. Fallows and the board are down doing inventory and gave orders not to be disturbed. Unless it's a matter of life and death. Which I doubt your post is."

_You might be surprised._ "Henly," He clapped a hand on his arm, and watched the tall, beefy man reflexively pull his arm away, "surely you don't buy into all this conspiracy nonsense?"

Hesitation. Yes, he did, but he didn't want to tell the most powerful man in the agency such a thing, in case he remained in control. "The Board decides that, Sir. I will abide by their decision."

"They didn't say I couldn't go to my office, did they?"

"No. They told me to take you straight to your cell- I mean, accommodations."

"Henly, why don't we take another guard, another troop of heavily armed men in fact, and you can have them all stand about, guns pointed at my head-" his eyes twinkled in mocking sarcasm though he kept the falsely sincere smile on his face, "as I pull out a few letters and then hand them to you to put in the outgoing mail?"

The guard's flushed. "I don't think that'll be necessary, Sir." Henly smartly about faced them and moved a small pistol from his holster to point at the center of Travers' back. "One armed man, or two, should suffice. Ferguson! Come with me to Mr. Travers' office for a moment. He needs to post some letters."

"Can't we do that for him?" Ferguson left his position by the hall doors and his hand went to his flank.

"Just one letter I have to retrieve from inside my desk. You can call Fallows if you wish. I'm sure he'll approve." Travers smiled patiently.

Ferguson and Henly exchanged a look. "No offense, Sir, but we'll be keeping weapons drawn at all times, and one of us will be directly behind you."

"Of course, of course. Well-trained, lads. Stout fellows, unshirking." He rambled of a litany of sturdy, Norman words at them, all the while secretly glad he had always had a contingency plan in place.

* * *

They watched him take out the letters, shuffle through, frown, and reach under his desk. He smiled faintly at the intake of breath, the cocking of hammers- and then he pretended to push buttons on the underside. After pointlessly poking on the underside for a second, he acted as if his drawer had been unlocked, and he fished out a letter, ready to mail, in its special envelope with blue and red edging and a pre-sorted priority Royal Airmail stamp already affixed. "There. Now all we have to do is get them into the night box and I'll rest easy." He rose, and calmly handed a pile of about ten letters to Ferguson, ignoring the gun aimed at his chest.

"Back to your room now, Sir. And I'll be telling Fallows you were here."

"Admirable, my dear fellow, admirable. Perhaps it would make it easier if I just dictated a list of what's inside each envelope, so he doesn't have to rip them open and readdress them? What with his poor, mislead sense of duty." Travers began ticking items off on his fingers as Henly took his elbow.

"I don't think that'll be necessary, Sir."

"There's a letter to Mr. Sosuma in Kyoto about our sword requirements for the incoming students. Then there should be one to the Procurator Fiscal in Edinburgh about that troublesome body the police found - vampires, as usual. The payroll department in Devon needed my signatures for the teaching staff's contracts. Oh, the -"

"Yes, Sir, we'll have someone look at it." Ferguson shoved the letters in his pocket.

They marched in silence down the halls and stairwells until they returned Travers to his heavily fortified room. "Pleasant evening, Sir."

"And to you, gentlemen." He waved with a gracious smile and waited for the door to lock. Then the smile was replaced by a frown and a steady pacing sound filled the air.

_What if they do look? Oh yes, all routine letters, all but one. The one that _must _be sent, the one addressed to a California post office box, no names, no details, nothing but a simple three word note._

"Care coverage discontinued."

If Collins was found- he still had one move that could restart the game.

* * *

"I'm sorry I didn't know it was that bastard. I should never have taken in the food, Slayer."

"If you hadn't, I would have!" Buffy protested, easing her (technically _his_) torn shirt off. "Wow. How many shirts did you pack?"

"Not enough apparently." Spike watched her shake out her long, tangled hair, felt lust rising- and falling. Such a network of bruises and scrapes. And some slight trembling in the muscles that seemed extra defined today.

"We have hideout money left. We'll get some for you in town." She watched him moving gingerly around her, afraid to break each other, too burnt and too scarred to touch- but they'd been clinging to each other like long lost loves only a little while ago.

"Yeah. Get you some too. Maybe then you'll stop pinching mine." He sat on the edge of the sink and puffed, not looking at her.

"So I'm caught up on the poison, the who did it, the how he did it, and the why, and I have some decidedly not human-friendly ideas about what happens when I find him. I know about living in nightmare land- which apparently exists when I'm awake, too." She shivered and cranked the water up to the extent of its failing heating system's abilities. "But I don't know how I suddenly got better. Except that you did something."

"Yeah. I dragged your sorry ass back in, made one hell of a catch." Spike frowned and stubbed the smoke out on the porcelain basin, mumbling to himself- one version of himself, "Not good at sports. Ha. That'll show' em."

"What?"

"Nothin'." He exclaimed hastily. "Go on, get in. Or were you hopin' to just steam clean yourself?" The hot water and the closed off room were creating a sauna-like effect.

"You caught me. I hit you for it."

"You were tryin' to get away, I was holdin' you back, of course you'd hit. No worries." He yanked the shower curtain open pointedly.

"I hit you because I thought you were going to- that you were all going to turn me over to the bad guys. Or leave me. Or- other things you'd never do." She blinked away the image of Giles polishing his sword with that sorrowful "it's for your own good" expression. "Eventually- there was nothing. Nothing, and then you were talking. Talking and vamping-"

"Blood sample. Mobile lab, me." He tried to joke.

She winced and rubbed her head, as if she scrub her thoughts back into focus. "Then your voice again. Telling me to come back and - and boy, you were like a broken record."

"Sometimes you don't listen well, you cloth-eared thing." He stepped closer to her, and was pleased when she took a hasty hobble over to the tub. "Or sometimes I have to repeat myself until I'm bloody well tired of talkin'. Like now." He stepped again- and ran into her.

"I'm not gonna back down." She smiled sadly up at him. "Tell me. What'd you do?"

"You already know that, Slayer."

"Spike, honest, there were some big gaps in today that I don't remember!"

"Think about it. You know what can cure a person who's too shattered to glue together." He went to turn away, and was stopped. She didn't even need to use strength, only a fingertip on the back of his arm as he pulled past her.

"You used the Eye?" Buffy whispered. A shrug, a nod. "But- but that was everything you were working for! You said- you said you had to get her some peace, that she was tortured and it was Angel's fault and all that stuff with her sisters!" Buffy felt utterly, overwhelmingly guilty. Guilty and some other strange emotion that she didn't understand, that she didn't think she'd ever understood, making her chest get tight and her skin flush.

"I know what I said." Quiet control. _Don't look at her._

"How could you..." She trailed off. _He's been hurt so bad. So bad, and he did so much, all for one little thing, one little thing in return for something huge! And now he won't have it at all. And it's all my fault. Oh my God, then it's true. I still hurt them. I mean it was his choice, but I forced his hand, I made this happen, I- _"That was everything you were working for!" Buffy repeated desperately, eyes wide and rapidly blinking.

"Yes! It was! To heal the mind and get me the girl I love! The girl who would understand love, who knows what love is, the one I wanted, broken and confused and even down right starkers, who would still love me!" He pressed her back, her shoulder blades divided on the edge of the wall where the tub met the rest of the room, and held her there, not caring if she hurt, because he hurt too. "Everything I said got trumped by a couple things you said, Slayer! That you won't hurt my heart, you won't throw me away, you don't quit, you don't leave, and you'd rather have happiness than be at peace. You will _never_ give me any bloody peace, but you _always_ make some part of me happy!" He finished ins ranting shout, impassioned and gripping her hard.

Buffy gasped at him, and winced as her tender shoulder split against the partition. Her lips trembled as she tried to fight that powerful contracting sensation in her chest and tried to find a coherent reply to his outburst. Lips crashed together fora few furious minutes, all at his lead, all his explosive revelations poured into one frustrated physical expression.

_I always make some part of him happy. But I know some part of him hurts so much right now. _She tore her head away to breathe, and whispered, "I didn't mean to make you choose." She shook her head. _I was pretending he wouldn't have to pick. Ever. But I never thought about choosing like _this. "I didn't mean to."

"That's right. You didn't. 'Cause you never treat me like a toy, or love like a game." His own white lips quivered slightly, non-existent breath still seeming to flow, to make his chest rise and fall, touching hers. "I hate what Dru goes through. But there's times when she's happy. She's suffered, and she fights, an' she fails, an' she falls- and God, I want to be the one to save her from herself."

"I'm sorry." Buffy murmured softly.

"Lemme finish!" He growled and pressed his forehead to hers. "You - there was no break for you, it just kept gettin' worse, and worse, and it would have killed you. No peace, no happy, no nothin', an' nothin' for me."

"But you still didn't get-" _Drusilla. But he got what he wanted. Or at least- he thinks he does. _"I'm still sorry you had to make a decision like that." Buffy pressed forward.

"Me, too." _Sorry anything this painful ever happens to anyone. Huh. Not much of a demon lately, am I? _He wrapped one arm around her waist and became a bit harsh to stop him getting all soft and mushy. _An' noticing that she's quite soft herself. All soft and delicate, a blend of warrior and wilted flower and -Down, Boy! _"You oughta take it easy on the good guy bit, Slayer- you were the one for the chop. You need to take it easy today. Let's-"

She blocked the rest of the words with her mouth. "We can take it easy."

* * *

_You love someone enough that you'll give up a century's worth of woman and ways, and you save her life- several times- in one day- and in the aftermath... I feel like I'm the one with my head in the clouds. _They stood, close enough to touch but barely letting fingers brush, the permission granted- but something inside him hesitated.

They swayed unsteadily against each other. _I almost died. I almost killed myself. I did full blown crazy, and the only thing that brought me back was some magic doohickey. That, and a guy who traded everything to make me wake up again. Never stopped trying, or fighting, or giving- which if you think about him, is super weird, and at then end- he acts like he can't touch me._

_ Does she think I'm just the same as the other losers? The leavers? I didn't leave her, but it looks like I tossed Dru aside. Of course, Dru tossed me first. Tossed me damn hard, too._

_ I forced him to choose- not me, but the situation. Geez. I mean- someone's life over someone feeling better- I don't know, I guess the noble thing to do is save a life. Spike, noble? Yeah. Spike, noble- for love._

"Spike?"

"Hm?" How does something so closely packed as a cramped little shower with two bodies in it still seem so lonely? He was letting her have most of the hot water, his burnt skin didn't like the heat too much anyway. She lifted her face to him, arms crossed against between their chests.

"Thank you. For bringing me back."

"Thank you for wantin' to stay."

"Of course I did! _You're _here."

_He who hesitates is lost. Or even worse- the girl's lost. _

She screeched a little as he hoisted her up and tossed the "take it easy" rule out the window, hugging her hard, just the way she wanted him to. "Spike!"

"Never do that again! I love you, Slayer!" He said furiously. He _was_ furious. Furious in retrospect, that he hadn't realized it sooner, that he'd almost lost her, that there was a man out there, several in fact, and that they were still breathing even when she'd almost stopped. "Dammit. _Love_ you, Buffy." This is when they can hurt you most- when you gamble it all, when they know they've got your heart in the palm of their hands.

"I love you, too!" He said it. _He still means it. I cost him everything. _

"Still?"

"Duh! That's not going to change just because I lose my mind!" _Oh. Oh crap..._

"Seems to matter in some cases." He mumbled.

"Maybe it depends on the person?" Buffy tried to soothe him, and her foot-in-mouth mistake.

"If it's the right one." _Gut said it wasn't a mistake. Always listen to your gut._

_Give him everything in return... _"If it's the right one." Buffy nodded her agreement, and caught his lips again.

* * *

They kissed, pressed against the far wall of the shower, until he felt her shivering. "You wanna get back under the water, Baby?"

"No, I wanna get under the covers." She ran her hands down to his hips, trying to keep to the path of white skin not broken by blisters or bruises.

"I can arrange that." He teased and lifted her out.

"I can walk!" She squealed.

_Earlier today she couldn't. It's good to see her back on her own two feet. _He put her down, but held her tight for a second. "Sometimes I just want to get an armful of you." He smiled so she wouldn't follow him down that sad path in his mind.

Buffy laced her fingers with his and pulled him along. "It's too bright for hit man hunting, right? I mean, for both of us to go out and I'm not going anywhere without you."

"This from the girl who called me warden." He'd turned off the shower and allowed himself to be led. "Watcher Junior said you'd be sick for a few hours, so after that I'll blanket up an' we can go an'- oh bloody hell! The car! The car's out on the effin' ridge with its door open an' the radio on."

"So? It's not raining." Buffy sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him in the blue-gray light made by bright sun on the faded curtains.

"No, but it means I'm running the battery dead. An' the keys are in the ignition. I hope we still _have_ a car."

"We'll have two soon. Ours and Poison-man's."

"Yeah." He sat beside her and smiled. "I hope he has jumper cables."

"I meant we could probably just take his car." Buffy blushed at her own criminal impulses._ Hey! Not criminal! _He's_ the criminal. And we can give the car back. Or not take it at all._ "But jumping the battery is good too." Buffy nodded.

"Not what I had in mind." Spike vamped and unvamped with a shake of his head. "Sorry. Sidetracked. I believe I was about to tuck you in."

"I believe you were about to get in here with me."Buffy pulled the covers down and scooted under, trying not to wince too much. Her wrists and arms and shoulder seemed exhausted, and every muscle ached as though it had been pulling heavy weights for an hour. Vague memories or something rough pulling her arms into an uncomfortable position. She rubbed her reddened wrists and forearms with a thoughtful frown.

He eased in beside her. "Hurts?"

"Like I did weights for hours. Like- car-sized weights, not normal people weights."

"You did fight for hours. And with not much more than your human strength, Luv. You're incredible." Spike kissed her bruised shoulder down to her scraped arm, following it to her chafing wrists. _She doesn't know what happened I guess. I'd rather not tell her. Or remind her. Or myself. _

But he heard himself keep talking, babbling between kisses as he inhaled her, that recreated clean, simple scent of his woman, not a walking capsule of fear. "Most humans can't keep a vampire off for even a second, but you- you just don't quit. You're a survivor, Luv. Even if someone tries to tie you down, you'll fight until you're free. That's what makes a Slayer, not the strength, the spirit..." He didn't know when his more animalistic tendencies had taken over, but he was running his tongue over her pulse points, and back up, over across her chest at gave soft heaves.

"You tied me down?"

"More like _to. _To the chair in the kitchen. You kept tryin' to hurt yourself, an' you wouldn't stay down for long."

Buffy took her arm back. It freaked her out a little, the thought that he'd done that. Completely unpalatable. Completely a reminder of other bad times when the enemy had hurt her, caught her. "That's..." She met worried, distracted blue eyes, eyes that roved over hers and her whole body, white fingers wrapped around scraped skin. _He hated it. He had to choose. He chose lots of things he probably hated, just so I could be alive. And boy do I know that feeling. _"That's what you have to do sometimes." She shrugged. His face moved over hers, letting her get a close up of four small slashes, already healing. _I did that. I never stop fighting. _

"I'm sorry anyway." Spike's cheek jumped in a sudden tic.

"So am I." She traced his twitching muscle. "But- " She blushed, "I heard that 'make up sex' is really good."

"Yeah?" He laughed, and the worry left his eyes. "I don't think this counts as make up sex."

"Well, not yet, but if you move over a couple inches-" Buffy scooted her hips at his.

"I meant 'cause we weren't fightin' or arguin'. This counts as 'we're both still here an' we're together' sex. Or sleep. We need to sleep at some point, Slayer." He groaned. "You must be all in."

"True." Buffy closed her eyes. With a deep sigh, she spoke in a mumble, "We shouldn't sleep until we find him."

Spike's eyelids fluttered back open. "Keep awake, you mean?"

"On the look out." She rolled gingerly to her side.

He mirrored her. "Hm. But this bed is just so inviting..." He stretched his arm out and let it tangle with hers.

"I didn't say we had to get_ up._ Just that we shouldn't go to_ sleep._"

* * *

It turned into a weak tussle of kisses and licks, hungry for her taste. It turned into a desperate scrape of her hands over every uninjured patch, needing to hold onto him and never feel so lost again.

_I almost died. _

_ Suddenly feel very, very alive._

She lunged, she was the aggressor, clawing with fingertips, grasping his waist and willing him onto his back so she could capture his blue eyes and his beautiful face- which really was suddenly, utterly glorious to look on. _With my alive eyes. _

"Kitty feels better." Spike caught her slender ribcage and held her in place as she climbed his prone form.

"Being alive. Doesn't suck." _Sometimes it does._

_Yeah. But not with the right one around._

"Bein' undead isn't too shabby either, if you - whoa! Whoa, hang on!" Buffy's shoulder gave out as she braced her palms on either side of him. He raised himself as she skidded flat to his chest.

Her mouth moistened slightly, almost able to taste his lips, a combination of smoky mint and teasing ferocity. "Oops?"

"No... just the way I like it." He rolled his hips up and stuck slightly at her folds, but kept pushing, kissing away her slight wince.

She pushed down. Sore skins rubbed together, pleasure and comfort overwhelming it quickly. So exhausted, but so grateful to be with him, her head rested on his chest, and her hips and his made a slow steady wave.

His arms came up protectively over her back, wrapping her in tightly, a cross between a cradle and a shield. His own eyes, with ash gray shadows underneath them, closed heavily and he rested his cheek to her damp hair.

_It doesn't have to be fancy. It just has to be us, together. I don't even care if it just stops now, 's long as she stays right here._ He sighed and enjoyed the heartbeat, pounding softly from outside rather than inside.

_I think this is how you make love._ Buffy sighed back. "We might have to finish later..."

"Not gonna be an end." He stretched under her, and she arched above him before they nestled together. She yawned, blushed, and then giggled as she kissed him.

"I figured this would be way more lively. You know. With the escaping death, you really love me, I really love you buzz?" Buffy ventured, still moving lazily around him, pleasure coming in soft, warm gulps, not mighty thrashes.

"I figured that too. Coulda been." He held her cheeks down and rolled easily in her as she began to let her juices flow. "Stopped myself a couple times."

"But?"

"Well." He swallowed as she lightly kissed his adam's apple. "Think your mum'd split my head open if she thought I had put you back on the injured list."

"Oh God... my mom knows! Sort of."

He pushed on hastily, before she could dwell on that. "Think I decided I wanted you nice an' slow today. An' all day." He pressed inside and she ground down, small but sinfully sweet movements, a slow fire building in their bellies. "Maybe that rough stuff is for when you feel like you're desperate to hold on. I already felt that way all mornin'." _An' most of my life. _ Eyes seared their mates. "We're still here. Not goin' anywhere."

"No. Very definitely no." She kissed him, and felt relief cresting over her, lulling her as tired muscles uncoiled and her sweet nectar dripped and pooled slowly around him, thick like honey. "Good to be back. So good. So good, to be alive. Be with you." Buffy murmured tiredly.

"Amen." He chuckled, feeling a familiar, if slower rush beginning to build. "An' just wait until you've got your strength back..."

* * *

_Sunset..._

Two figures, looking much restored, (though limping slightly) ambled to the car, and found that it fortunately still had some life in it. As well as other things.

"Shoo, squirrel! Shoo! Spike- don't eat the squirrel!"

"I'm not gonna eat the soddin' squirrel." He snarked and cranked the engine. "Unless it left me little brown prezzies..."

"Ew, Spike." Buffy scanned the car again, and paused halfway as she opened the passenger door. She stood looking up at the peak, squinting in the sun as it disappeared over the edge of the rock.

From inside the vehicle, Spike followed her gaze. "We have work to do." He reminded her after a few minutes. "That part's done. Payback time now." Fangs reflexively eased from his gums, as he watched something feral flash in her eyes.

* * *

_Darkness..._

Collins began to doubt that Slayers could be killed by anything but a vampire ripping out their throats, or by hordes of demons straight out of hell. In the moonlight, he saw them leaving, holding hands even!- as they ran through the woods. Probably looking for innocent humans to kill. _She's gone evil, as evil as the vampire if she stands idly by and lets him murder the innocents._

_She's strong as anything, and Travers said there was no cure, no way she could escape death. Now she's waltzing off, not a care in the world... _Collins was breaking the essential rule of his creed- never feel anything for who you kill, not anger, not pity, simply do your job. But he was disgusted now. _Turn her back on the world, all of it, all of it unknowingly dependent on her to do her duty, as all of them did theirs, whether it be Watching for threats, or Removing those threats- all to go and defile herself with a creature known to kill her kind._

Collins soon stood back beside his car, and kept his hands steady as he added the rest of the vials into the milk. Not just a bit. Travers must not know the strength she held. He depressed the plunger to the very bottom, three times, not even rationing the precious "essence of fear" as he'd come to think of it.

"You'll die screaming... like the ones you should be saving." Like the ones he killed unquestioningly, if they posed a threat to her. He felt ill and threw the empty vials hastily into the boot of his hired vehicle. He shook the cardboard carton of milk up and put it carefully back in the bag of groceries. He picked up the perfect duplicate of their order from several days ago. Hopefully they'd just think the rangers had been overly apologetic for walking in on the "honeymooners", or that now it was simply a standing order, repeated twice a week.

He picked up the brown paper bag and headed back towards the cabin.

* * *

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Buffy whispered.

"I smell him. Faint on the wind, but I smell him." Spike's ridges reemerged.

"So, let's catch him and find him first!"

"He can run, he can shoot, an' for all I know he's got a blow gun full of darts ready to load you back up with poison, and I only had one 'get out of Bedlam free' card." _I'm not goin' through that again._

"What's a bed lamb?" Buffy hesitated as they finished doubling back.

"Slayer, shut up." Spike loved her. Loved her more than anything. He still wanted to smack her a little bit sometimes. "Look,_ I _know how to hunt humans. Next time we hunt beasties, _you _can lead the expedition, alright?" Spike hoisted her through the bedroom window and she tugged him through by his wrist as he put one black booted toe on the sill. Like the best of cat burglars they landed gracefully, and slid like shadows through the dark cabin.

"Well, I hope he doesn't take too long. The sooner he talks, the sooner Travers gets his." Buffy grumped softly.

"An' the sooner I can get mine." Spike's knuckles cracked loudly as he prepped his hands for several hours of "entertainment".

"Hey- Giles needs him to talk."

"An' after he talks?"

Buffy tried to fight down a wave of fear and nausea that overcame her when she let herself dwell on the dark swirl of hallucinations she'd suffered because of this unknown man. "He did what Travers told him to do."

"Just obeying orders, huh?" Spike scoffed nastily.

"You killed people too, you know." _He killed people. I'm in love with someone who killed people. Again. And he's still evil. Just sort of - 'motivated for good' evil. But he lost his motivation. All he got was me. I drive him nuts. He drives me nuts, too, but still..._

The hollow left by her words and thoughts was soon filled by a forced cough. "Yeah. Hrm. Think I might be startin' to like venison." He lied with a shrug.

She pounced on him, kissed him hard, kissed him until he was actually wondering if it was possible his lungs had started to work, because suddenly he needed to breathe. Just as suddenly, the lie was true. If venison came with a side of Slayer- put him on a steady diet of it.

"So. After he talks?" Spike distracted his lust with bloodlust.

Buffy chewed her lip. _I'm not gonna turn evil._ "Spike- Slayers don't kill people. They _save_ them." Buffy swallowed and looked into the small glints in the dark, his unseen eyes. "When I stop doing that- I've turned into my worst fear."

_Put it like that..._ Spike nodded and brushed her hand. "I don't like to see my girl scared." He gave a fake cough to cover the mushiness he'd uttered. His demon made a snort of contempt. " 'Cept of the big bad vampire, of course."

"I was never scared of you." Buffy smiled and cocked her head. "That's a big compliment, Spike."

"Maybe _now_. Also kind of an insult." He grumbled.

Buffy shook her head. "You do make me get the shivers sometimes. Does that count?"

"I'll take it." Spike tucked into a crouch by the door.

"Soon?" Buffy joined him.

He sniffed at the air coming through the seams of the door. "Any minute now."

* * *

Quick, clean, and quiet. _The perfect assassin, worthy of his rank_, the hit man silently preened as he let adrenaline push him through any remaining hints of trepidation or emotion, on to victory.

Collins placed the sack by the door, black gloved hands leaving no prints, silent feet making no sound. When they returned, they'd take in the bag, and take in her death, hopefully the vampire's as well. He pushed the bag upright as it slumped, settling it against the door.

It fell in.

"Well, well, well. Look, Honey," Buffy stood in the doorway as Spike seized Collins' outstretched arm, still hovering over the fallen bag, "free home delivery." She smiled frostily.

Collins paled as a violent yank sent him spinning inside the house, and the door slammed behind him. In the dark, he saw yellow eyes flare into life, and rake across his face like the beam of a torch.

"Good," a low, East End snarl met his ears, " 'cause I'm just _starving_."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	28. Chapter 28

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: A short chapter, because I know people were getting impatient. Beginning to wrap it up folks. Two or three chapters left after that, and maybe an epilogue with some of our side stories getting wrapped up, if people would enjoy that. _

_Author's Second Note: Repeated promise: _Unknown_ will have chapters again soon, I promise. This little story was supposed to be a two week quickie. Ha. I'm very bad at curbing my muse, but apparently no one minds! Don't worry though, none of my stories are abandoned. _

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, micmoc, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, Touch the Dark, hbmckidd, ValidescopeWest, Rachel, Alottalove, Cavementftw, ammuna, Seapea, Maire Ailbhe, Illusera, ShyL, mike13z50, Loverswalk89, Suzanne, KittenofDoomage, darkeyesgirl, LunaML, Traveler07, RedEclipedTwilight, CrazyforSpike, PeaceHeather, CailinRua, Kizzydg, Neinka, Jedi Steelwolf, cosmiclove, Haleycc, Slayergirl, shadowcat802, Bamboo Angel, jazzyjizzle1994, Treadingthedark, Loveisrealand4eva, kerry220, Clara Johnson, and sbyamibakura._

_Holy WOW! I think this may be a record of reviews for a chapter. If you could see me, I am doing a deeply humble and grateful nod to all of you._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XXVIII**

Collins stifled a cry and kicked out at the vampire holding his forearm in an iron grip. His foot swished harmlessly past its target, but the vampire didn't take kindly to the attempt._ This is it. Not how I figured I'd go._ Collins winced as the room spun, and he saw burning eyes, then a petite form, and then froze as the creature held him from behind. _Any minute, a plunge of fang and -_

Spike hammered his elbow into the back of the twisting man, hitting him smartly at the base of the neck. Collins fell in a heap.

"Please tell me you did't just kill the evidence?" Buffy hissed worriedly, rushing over to them.

"Nope. Jus' keepin' it still for a minute." He hauled the hit man back up and jerked his head towards the kitchen. "Get me a chair, Slayer."

"Got it."

Spike tore the weapons off of Collins systematically, frisking him and removing his belt and shoes, finding loaded holster, knives, and stakes concealed everywhere.

"Holy arsenal." Buffy hit the living room lights and shook her head as she looked at the pile. "Dude, he has to teach me how to accessorize." She let Spike scoop the groaning figure into the chair and collected up the scattering of weapons.

"Don't think we have time to trade fashion tips. I want him to talk and then I want to-"

Eyes met over the slumped figure. "Want to what?" Buffy asked softly.

Spike growled. "He almost killed you."

"Something we all have in common." Buffy whispered bitterly. She turned away abruptly fighting the dark thoughts that bubbled so effortlessly to the surface. "I'm going to find that rope..."

Spike watched her glide off, an absent frown of concentration on her face. Drifting. He gave a savage back handed fist to the fluttering eyes of their prisoner, making him careen forward in the chair, out cold again. "Sit tight." Spike muttered as he jerked the unconscious figure back in place, then followed her.

* * *

"How you doin'?" Spike slid behind her. She was coiling rope slowly up into her arms. He noticed her hands unknowingly lingered over the frayed spots she'd made with her own struggles, breaking the skin on her wrists, fraying the rope on the chair.

"I'm fine. Now. No thanks to him." Buffy let the rope go taut in her hands.

"Nope." Spike's fangs poked his inner gums, making his lips snarl and prickle. "Scum. World's rubbish enough, Luv, we don't -"

Buffy turned to him suddenly and looked at him with wide, helpless eyes. "That thing that I told you about? The normal girl part? That tells me to get a grip, not to go Slay-gal on every jerk who cuts in front of me in line or insults my wardrobe? Or just reminds me to keep what I am a secret? I don't think I have it anymore. Because I- I understand what it's like- to suddenly want to hurt someone. More than hurt someone. Not to save anyone. Just because it would- just because." Buffy stilled her shaking voice and thrust the rope away from herself, into his hands.

It was tempting. To know everyone has a seed of darkness, even her, and that together they could revel in it if she ever let it bloom... His demon gave a gleeful shiver. He snapped at it to stay down inside his head. "You know how you've got the urge?" Spike kept his face cooly blank.

"Not- all the time, just when I see him sitting there, and I was sitting there just this morning... tied up and I didn't even know why... or what was happening." She coughed and sniffed in, bile suddenly tickling the back of her throat. "Sorry. Stupid of me. I'm still a little loopy after the-"

He interrupted in a slick voice, undercutting all the apology and self-doubt. "That urge you have? This was a man tryin' to murder you. No one feels all sunny and sweet when they face that down. The part you say you're missing? You still have it, Buffy. You'd have snapped his neck like a twig the second you saw him if you didn't have all those dark instincts under control." _An' I like her like she is. She's a night creature, like me, but a good one. I don't need her to go dark, I'm dark enough for two. _"The Slayer side doesn't turn you into a killer, that thing you're afraid of. An' the normal side doesn't hold you back. You're not made up of bits and pieces like some puzzle they can take apart." _That's why it was so wrong to see her fractured. She was finally whole, jus' Slayer. Mine. With Dru I wanted to take away parts an' add back in, make a new person. I jus' wanted to keep this girl the same._

Buffy nodded slowly, feeling the bleakness inside seep away. "I'm just me." _Like he's just Spike. Vampire and human. Yeah, he's got times when one stands out more than the other, but he is never anything but _Spike.

"Bloody right, just you, it's all you. Well, with a little assistance." Spike gave a dazzling, not at all wholesome smile that made her shake her head and laugh once. He lost the smile, looking at her. "You're the one with all the power. An' it's all _yours,_ Slayer. You're gonna do good, no matter what rules you break or how you play the game." He cast a disgusted look at Travers' henchman, "An' no matter who you play for. Good is just what you do."

She felt stronger than she had in days, just from his words. "For a bad guy, you give an awesome pep talk."

"I can be very motivating." He preened. "Speaking of which-" they turned together, facing Collins, who slowly stirred, "ready to do a little not-so-friendly encouragin'?"

"Nothing permanent, okay?" Buffy walked with him, two wolves walking towards their wounded prey.

"You take all the fun out of things, Slayer." Spike groused.

"If we ever have to get information out of an evil demon, not out of a human we need to testify, you can break stuff, okay?"

"Relationships are all about compromise." Spike sighed dramatically. Then his eyes lit up. "But he doesn't have to _know_ we're playin' nice, does he?"

Buffy pinched herself. _Yep. Awake. Real conversation._ "Spike... I told you, I can't turn into someone who-"

He bent his head to hers, lips against her ear, "Just watch me. Rookie."

* * *

Cold water made him gasp, and he blinked painfully as it rained over him. He instinctively went to wipe his face and found his wrists tied to tourniquet tightness behind him. With a jerk of his head, he looked up to see where he was and who had done this. "William the Bloody." Collins said in disgust, but with no obvious hints of fear.

"I'd be careful how you speak to me." Spike sat in a chair across from him now, an empty glass on his knee. "I wanted to drain you dry. I'm only bein' nice because of her." He jerked his head towards Buffy, who hovered by the fireplace.

"Why don't you? Go ahead." Collins asked through thinned lips.

"Because we need you to talk." Buffy called.

"Slayer! My turn." Spike hissed with a frown.

"Sorry, sorry, geez. Does not play well with others." Buffy mumbled to herself.

"_Slayer_? That's a laugh. You're not worthy of your title. Go on and kill me, you won't get Council secrets out of me." Collins set his lips obstinately and lowered his head.

Spike and Buffy stared at each other. "Not interested in secrets, mate." Spike calmly kicked Collins' chair over, the man tied to it crashing back, staring at the ceiling, and then at a crouching figure over him. "But an _apology _might be nice." He added pointedly.

"Apology?" Now Collins looked puzzled.

"I don't know if they forgot to teach this in Watcher school, but poisoning people isn't nice." Buffy's voice joined them.

"I'll never apologize for doing my duty. It's a concept you Americans are strangely lacking in." Collins closed his eyes.

"_Duty_? Spike, sit him up."

"Slayer-"

"Seriously, sit him up."

"Women." Spike grabbed Collins by the throat and unceremoniously dragged the chair upright by its occupant.

"Travers told you to kill me. We know that. We just need you to tell the_ rest _of the Council that."

Collins said nothing. _You have to do that. You say nothing. They get no information out of you. My duty, unlike hers, is to the Watcher's Council, the governing force of good in this demon infested world. _

They'd trained themselves to kill and die. Oh not, all of them. The suits, they were trained to read prophecies and pray to be given a potential slayer to keep track of. In wet works, you do the ugly jobs. Living. Dying. All in a day's work. Ninety nine times of the hundred, he'd pulled the trigger, and as every man in "Threat Removal" knows, that one time last- someone pulls the trigger on you.

"He's not listenin' to anything you say." Spike stopped Buffy as she was continued explaining.

"What? He's three feet away. How can he not be listening?" Buffy came closer an indignant frown on her face.

"He's not a caring, sharing type. He's all death and orders." Spike sized him up. "The only thing that's going to get a reaction out of him is _pain_."

"Spike..."

Spike vamped and reached under Collins' chin. "Your boss made me the same offer I'm making you. Die or take a phone call."

Collins blinked at the amber eyes. _Demons lie_. So the phrase had been said with such easy confidence, such a simple, factual ring to it. _But demons lie_. "I keep telling you. You can kill me if you like. Do it now. Get it done with."

Buffy strode over and glared at Collins, and Spike for that matter, until he backed away a few paces.

"I don't wanna kill you." Buffy leaned down and looked deep into his eyes. "You didn't kill me... you did try though."

Collins stared stonily at her.

Spike stayed cool with a valiant effort. Something about the implied disrespect for Buffy, Buffy who would have every right to slit his throat and wasn't doing it because of that bloody annoying- but still sort of beautiful-inner goodness...

"_I _wanna kill you." Spike raised his hand, "But she won't let me. Some nonsense about bein' good." He huffed. "Slayer, undead is sort of a compromise, init?"

"No!" Buffy shouted in exasperation.

"But he could still talk! He'd have all his memories. We do you know. We just like a different diet." Spike vamped once more, and licked his lips.

"Spike, what the hell are you-" Buffy began to hiss, looking genuinely upset. Spike jerked his head pointedly past her, and then disguised it by rolling out his shoulders, as if limbering up.

Collins looked suddenly alert and interested, no longer resolutely detached. "You can kill me but you'll never turn me." He said insistently. "I've been trained. We can resist! The body you may kill, but the -"

"Oh, save it." Spike pushed past Buffy with a rumble in his voice, a hungry, deadly sound. "All of them think that. But then... you feel your heartbeat stopping. Slowly dragging... the world falling away. You know... all the sudden you're sure... you're dying."

Behind him, Buffy shuddered. She'd had that feeling. The same feeling, prolonged, hours of feeling herself dying inside...

Spike continued, circling, his fingers with their few black chips left on them moving the air an inch from Collins' shoulders and neck. "You suddenly know what it's like, to be on the other side of the bullet, everything is getting cold..." The hit man flinched though no hand touched him. "You hear a voice offering you a safety net, a chance to live like you've never lived before, if you just . take. one. _drink_..." Fangs clicked audibly over the sound of rasping breath.

Buffy looked at their captive's face. Set and hard. But the eyes- they were mirrors of her own. _We're not afraid of vampires. We're afraid of_ becoming _them. We're not afraid of evil, but turning into something that is. _ She was about to beg Spike to stop, fears of her remembered dreams unsettling her as badly as fears of things imagined were affecting Collins, but he beat her to it.

"- wake up the next day, you'll be loyal to your Sire." He stopped abruptly, a bitter laugh breaking the threatening tone. "Almost impossibly devoted to 'em, in fact." Buffy met his eyes, and swallowed. "You'll tell me everything I ever wanted to know." _And then I'll stake you. Because you'll still deserve it. An' then she'll never look at me the same, because she wanted to save you. _

Three intensely uncomfortable players had a half second of silence on their unlikely stage.

The brunette gathered up his courage. "You can't make me drink. I'm not afraid like the other helpless ones you've fed on. I'll _never_ be one of you." Collins spat at the beast and his human mate.

Buffy moved slowly, crossing in front of Spike, and pulling him away. Shoulders rising and falling rapidly, staring at Collins with pure hatred, he followed her numbly, letting her take over as she whispered, "Tag. I'm it."

Collins couldn't see her, turned as he was, but he could hear rustling. In a moment she returned, something behind her back.

"I get it. I do." Buffy nodded. "Dying- yeah, it's something that's gonna happen to you if you keep doing dangerous things. Dying we can handle. I agree with you... except about one thing."

She waited, but she was much mistaken if he'd play along, ask her what that one thing was. She didn't seem to mind that he wouldn't answer, just gave him a small, hard smile.

"Can't make you drink, huh?" Buffy pulled the carton of milk, poisoned milk, meant for her, from behind her back, and watched his eyes go wide. "That's right. I know what you've been feeding me, and where you put it. Future reference- if you want to add something to my milk, I like a couple shots of Hershey's and that's it."

Collins was trained to kill and die. Not to go mad. Or be afraid. He lived in a carefully created mindset that didn't allow for much whimsy or fear. To be forcefully subjected to both...

"Another tip, mate." Spike lit up in the corner, watching her lead the dance, "If you're gonna bring a bomb with you, make sure you get away before the blast. Want me to get you a glass, Luv?"

"No... I don't think he needs a whole glass." Buffy shook the container, making sure the poison was running throughout, and trying to resist the urge to fling it into the fireplace and run. She never wanted to be near the horrible fright inducing, deadly drug again.

"You won't get me to talk." Collins whispered.

"Okay." Buffy shrugged. "I can deal. No, really." She looked at Spike with another shrug, albeit a bluffing one, "So you don't talk. You don't provide any information to the rest of the Watcher's Council, telling them Travers hired you and sent you out here to kill me. Like you said, I'm not all about the 'duty'. _This _can be payback." She swirled the container again. "I took a drink. A _lot _of drinks. A couple days' worth in fact. And now it's your turn."

The little pulse of fear that had usually been her signal to stop, to run, throbbed once, and then was smoothly steamrolled. _I will win. I will get what I need and this battle will be _over. Her trembling hands stopped shaking, and she slowly, deliberately began to press the cardboard spout forward, starting to open it.

Collins made a noise, sitting rigid, inches from her. In the background, Spike also sat tense. One spill, or if he got free somehow, shoved it towards her face and it splashed, if Buffy got any in her system somehow... He flexed his hands nervously and dragged his cig down to the filter, the only way he could stop himself from running over and grabbing it from her hands, flinging it out the door, letting it soak into the earth.

"Not even a sip? A little drop? Pour it straight down your throat." Buffy's voice became almost sultry, as she edged closer to the man on the chair. "Even if you spit it out, I bet some would get down."

Both Collins and the vampire watched her, mesmerized, though for very different reasons.

"Once it's in you... down there...floating around your system..." Buffy punctuated her threat with long pauses, each pause being used to run a nail along the cardboard seams, popping them open, each split another step closer to making her threat a reality.

Collins swallowed convulsively as she leaned close, and rose. His head instinctively followed her, looking up to find her poised above him, watching sweat bead on his brow.

"Once it's in your brain- you just _wish _you were dead." She started to tilt the container forward.

"Wait." Collins bowed his head and spoke through clenched teeth.

Buffy exhaled through a narrow opening in her mouth. _Thank God_. She unsteadily sat the carton down, in time to hear a low growling moan, stopped her in mid- regroup. Spike stood off to the side, absolutely ravenous looking.

"Spike!" Buffy hissed, quick stepping over to him. Collins visibly sagged even further down in the chair, chest heaving. "Again with the 'what the heck' ? I'm doing good!"

"Brilliantly good!" He hissed back. "You're just so bloody hot when you're a little bit bad." He felt his zipper pressing into him as his crotch became painfully tight.

"That's sick. And you're ruining my threatening." Buffy scolded, but she blushed. "Tense moment here. You shouldn't think stuff like that."

"All of this has been 'tense'." He rubbed against her. Even when in the thick of it, he'd always enjoyed when they were working together, the heat, that little bit of primal, that little bit of lethal. Which wasn't bad, it was simply _them_. "It's not bad if _he's_ the bad guy. It's powerful. My girl. Unstoppable." Spike ran his hands covetously down her sides.

"I'm kind of being stopped now." Buffy pointed out, breathing turning shallow as his hands found the sides of her breasts.

"Right. " Spike reluctantly let her go. "I was scared as hell for a minute but- you're doin' me proud, Slayer. Go back and make him spill his guts, Luv."

"Um. Disturbed and flattered. Um." She shook her head to clear it. "Okay, you stay there and try not to- hm- spill anything else." She left the threshold of the hall and went back to their unwilling visitor.

* * *

Collins looked up warily, guiltily, ashamed for even considering listening to her. Yet, he asked, "What do you want me to do, exactly?"

"Tell the Council Travers asked you to come kill me. He did, didn't he?"

Guilt felt a little relief in righteous anger. "Why shouldn't he? You've traded sides, you _and_ Lehane, both of you turning to demons." He jerked his head at Spike, then glared back at her from under creased brows. "You ought to be in the ground for that."

Spike stormed over. "She fought the good fight like you've never seen, and I bloody well know, I've watched her do it from both sides of the bloody battlefield!"

"Bite me or back up." Collins spat, baiting him on purpose.

"Option A." Spike vamped and snapped his fangs closed millimeters from his jugular, making Buffy gasp "No!" and Collins grunt like a frightened horse, though he didn't pull away. "See?" Spike rocked back on his heels. "She still wants to save your sorry little life, even though _you're_ the one who drove her mad, pushed her right to the edge of the grave, hurt her like nothin' ever hurts anyone, hurts all the people around who her, who love her..." He pulled back, he had to, shuddering as he seemed to see her milky eyes afresh in his mind. "Travers asked _me _to put her down. Over a month ago now._ I'm_ the turncoat. Not her." Spike put his arm around her protectively.

Collins blinked, looked between them._ No. No. This is why you never listen to anything they have to say. Demons lie to get what they want, and a demon's mate is just as bad._

_ But all they want is for me to tell the truth. Travers asked me to kill her._

_ To kill her, but say nothing about it_. All the turmoil and the stress and the demoralization of an already demoralized group of Watchers, people who'd witnessed the disgrace of two in their ranks, the corruption of one slayer, and the rebelliousness of the other. _ He had good reasons. _

I _had good reasons to trust him. I must've._

"Why would you help her, instead of take the job, if that's true? You're the Slayer of Slayers." Collins demanded with a bruised sneer.

"Funny story." Spike sneered back. "I hate people who throw away the best thing that ever fell in their laps. Got tired of her 'not obeyin' orders', did he? Didn't like that when he said 'jump' she said 'piss off an' let me kill somethin' evil', instead of a cheery little 'how high?'. No, he wanted a grunt an' he got one of those annoying independent types." Spike watched Collins' eyes twitch in a split second of uncertainty. "Sounds like him, doesn't it?" Collins said nothing. "Did you ask him why? Did he _let _you?" Spike laughed and spun, arms out, inviting him to set the record straight. "Did he tell you not to call until it was done? Tell you to make it look like an accident, did he give you anything concrete, did he-"

"I know my job!" Collins burst out finally.

"And I know mine!" Buffy inserted herself between the yelling figures. "I save people. I don't care how! I just- do whatever I have to do." She looked at Spike. "With _whoever_ I have to."

Another silent war. _Demons lie. She lies. She has every reason to make me think she's on our side- only if she's got all the power now, and she has, _he twisted his wrists, and only succeeded in removing a layer of skin, _she properly has, what game could they be playing? _

"We don't have all night. I've been away from home for like- ever." Buffy crossed her arms. "You talk, they bust Travers, I hit the mall."

Spike put his head in his hand and sighed. _Still an airhead sometimes._

_ What happens after I talk? They'll kill me. So what if Travers made a command decision, it's what he does. Things don't add up, anyway. If Travers asked the vampire, he'd never have asked me as well. That'd be throughly unscrupulous, making deals with devils. The very thing he set me on her for. _

_ Things don't add up. Someone isn't telling the truth._

A mind used to years of unquestioning obedience suddenly had to choose who to believe. His leader or two renegades, one a known murderer, a vampire, and one a deserter, a vampire lover.

Collins looked up at them, a sad sort of resignation in his eyes. "I believe I get a last cigarette."

"Bloody hell!" Spike roared at the man's stupidity, his blind faith in all the wrong things.

Buffy was calmer. Her 'game face' emerged though no one but Spike ever noticed the subtle shift, the steely set in her muscles and a new definition under her pretty features.

"No. You're not dying." She picked up the carton once again. "Like I was saying," she let a drop pour out, splashing onto the floor between Collins' feet, making him twitch, "you'll just wish you were dead. And let me tell you why..."

* * *

Spike couldn't hear her, but he watched as she wound herself around behind him, in front of him, whispering. Whispering exactly what happens to your mind when it's corroded with the poison he'd slipped her. Her voice throbbed and pulsed, an unending, urgent hiss as she poured out every fear that good soldiers have- that suddenly they're on the wrong side, that they've protected no one, that every good fight was in vain.

The vampire sat back and watched her. Heard the strain in words he couldn't quite catch, heard her willingly relive every fear, recount every nightmare from which she was never supposed to waken. A whole different kind of battle being waged, showing him once again she was the genuine article, the one who never stopped fighting, only used different weapons. He saw tears glimmer on lashes but never fall, tenaciously pounding out horror after horror- until the spout was against Collins' lips and he gasped out a grunt of agreement.

_Didn't leave a scratch on him. Hm._ He learned to appreciate a whole new power his slayer possessed.

* * *

_Day Twenty Six, the wee hours..._

Giles was startled from sleep, although by now he was so used to it, he felt his body's suddenly thumping heart and speeding pulse were out of line. He grabbed the ringing cell phone automatically and pressed it urgently to his ear.

"Hello? Buffy?"

"We got him. He'll talk."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	29. Chapter 29

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Two or three chapters left after that, and maybe an epilogue with some of our side stories getting wrapped up, if people would enjoy that. This chapter uses some of the lyrics of Smashing Pumpkin's _Bullet With Butterfly Wings_._

_Author's Second Note: Repeated promise: _Unknown_ will have chapters again soon, I promise. This little story was supposed to be a two week quickie. Ha. I'm very bad at curbing my muse, but apparently no one minds! Don't worry though, none of my stories are abandoned. _

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, micmoc, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, Touch the Dark, hbmckidd, ValidescopeWest, Rachel, Alottalove, Cavementftw, ammuna, Seapea, Maire Ailbhe, Illusera, ShyL, mike13z50, Loverswalk89, Suzanne, KittenofDoomage, darkeyesgirl, LunaML, Traveler07, RedEclipedTwilight, CrazyforSpike, PeaceHeather, CailinRua, Kizzydg, Neinka, Jedi Steelwolf, cosmiclove, Haleycc, Slayergirl, shadowcat802, Bamboo Angel, N172Shay, jazzyjizzle1994, Treadingthedark, Loveisrealand4eva, kerry220, Clara Johnson, Kzal, Kerry220, Kathryn Merlin, Spit, Fatefox, and sbyamibakura._

_I feel like every week a new reader joins this team! Thank you so much!_

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XXIX**

"We got him. He'll talk." Buffy's voice was exhausted.

Giles' voice was exuberant. "She's got him! Oh, now do be careful. I have to call Wesley. Xander! Wake up and call Wesley!"

"I knew all those years of irresponsible partying would come in handy." Xander's faint, sleepy voice came from a distance.

"Giles-"

"We'll have to have someone meet you. He'll have to be collected. How did you do it? Are you alright?" Giles fumbled for a pen, for his glasses, stumbling over his words.

"Oh. We can be persuasive." Buffy said casually. "I don't think we're done being persuasive either."

"How long can you hold him? Did he hurt you?" Giles demanded. "I know they have someone posted here, keeping tabs on us, the matter will be to get them to hear new orders to move and meet -"

"Giles! Stop freaking." Buffy demanded right back. "Get those guys watching the house to keep watching." She paused, and swallowed, "I'm coming home."

"Buffy! You can't! Just because you've managed to convince Collins to speak, doesn't mean Travers hasn't already put another person on your trail, or had someone here in town this whole time, waiting for you to return." What a horrible thought. And why hadn't they considered that? Once they knew for certain she was alive, they must know she'd return eventually.

Buffy sighed. She hadn't discussed this with anyone, and hadn't thought too much about it herself. She'd just known. Behind her, she heard Spike's boots with their now familiar creaking, coming over to question her.

"Goin' back?" He asked softly. _Go back. An' what does it mean, when you 'go back'? Do you go away? _

_ No. No, you wouldn't do that to me. _

Buffy didn't look at him. "Giles, I don't run away. I mean, I do, I did, but... that was a mistake."

"I'm not asking you to run again, merely to stay safe, for another day, two at the most, until they take him into custody, until we can get some answers about operatives placed in this area." _But then she'll still be sitting on him. Well, I'd rather him be in danger than her, and with Spike there, I feel fairly certain I know who'd fare worse in a battle..._ "The Council has procedures, they have resources, they can-"

"No! No. It never felt right to leave in the first place, and now staying away feels worse. I'm done _running_. I'm done _hiding_. I'm coming _home_." Buffy said firmly. Then wavered. "I'm not going to put you in any more danger than you already are. I think. I mean, I _hope._ Right?"

Giles smiled tiredly. She would do what her heart told her to do in any event, even if it took days for her to hear it and listen to it. "We'd be happy for you to be home. This is where you belong. We miss you terribly." His own heart wanted her back desperately, but at the same time it had that father's protectiveness. "If you're certain that's what's best?"

"I'm the Slayer. I was meant to be there for the big battles. And apparently if I don't stay in one place, they just follow me anyway."

"This is true." He muttered.

"We'll leave as soon as we get packed." Buffy smiled.

"I can't stop you when you really want to do something, can I?" Giles shook his head in defeat.

"Not so far." Buffy giggled.

"Let me speak to the blighter. I'd feel a little better if I could at least threaten him myself." The Watcher's normally prim lips curled into a snarl.

"You'll have to do it later. He's kind of busy being unconscious right now. Seriously Spike, if you don't stop knocking him out, he's going to have brain damage and all he'll say is 'vampire bad, milk yucky'."

"Regular bleedin' heart you are, Slayer." Spike grumbled.

"Ah. You're back to normal, then." Giles said with a touch of relief. "Oh- I'd best let you go, Xander says Wesley's on the phone. Call and check in? Every few hours? Call when you're getting near to town so we can tell you where to head. And-"

"Giles! You're going to burst something." Buffy chuckled.

"I am a bit excited, aren't I? Hrm. Just let us know when you're near home."

"Will do. See you soon." Buffy hung up with suddenly weak fingers.

* * *

He coughed into his fist. "S'pose snark is normal for us, init?"

"Totally." She smiled wanly.

"You- uh- you sure you want to head back right now? You look peaky. Had a rough day of it. You oughta rest."

"You can drive until daylight and I'll sleep. I'll drive when it's light and you sleep." Buffy shrugged. _He's putting it off. Because he doesn't want to leave. He'd never leave me. But maybe- maybe when we go back, he'll decide Sunnydale is no place for him to be._

Angel's face superimposed itself in her thoughts. _You can say you love someone and still leave them, even if you promise you never, ever will. _

"You know bloody well that won't work." Spike jabbed his finger against her chest.

"Hm?" Buffy jumped guiltily.

"You say you'll let me sleep, an' then you wake me up every ten minutes to ask if you're in the right lane or if you should take that exit, or to double check the map. It's a soddin' straight line!"

"Oh. That." Buffy swallowed a laugh. "I'm getting better at that. At all sorts of things."

"Sure are." He gave her a lopsided grin.

Silence. Little questions that both fearless warriors were afraid to ask.

So they asked other questions. "I'm new at this. How do you drive seventeen or eighteen hours with a hostage?" Buffy worriedly looked at Collins, still tied to the chair, head lolled back, a puffed up eye and split lip the only visible wounds on him.

"I'd keep him bound an' gagged in the trunk. Preferably in plastic, but since he's alive-" Buffy suddenly gasped and gave him an appalled swat on the arm. "Oi! You asked!"

"If I barf on you it's going to be your own fault- and oh my gosh I'm _starving_. We need to shop. We need gas."

Spike peered out the window and looked at their car, calculating the trunk to human ratio. He stared, peered into the darkness and frowned. "We need a late model Buick sedan oil pan."

"A what now?" Buffy shook her head in confusion, brows pressed together.

"I might've punched a hole in somethin' vital when I drove it halfway up that ruddy cliff. Prolly got a log and a boulder wedged up in there."

"No speak car. Barely drive car." Buffy sighed.

"I know, b'lieve me." Spike smiled faintly. _This is okay. The back an' forth. The laughin' up our sleeves at each other._

"Can you buy those at a gas station?" Buffy suggested uncertainly.

The smile broadened. "No. You ever go in and see an oil pan next to the little pine tree air fresheners?"

"First- never looked. Second, probably wouldn't know what one looked like. Third- urgh. We have to find a garage then! Spike, we have to hurry and get him down there. He's star-witness boy!"

"So we'll speed."

"And what do we say when they pull us over and ask us why we have a man in the - wait, what _are _we doing with him?"

"I s'pose I can get a few rolls of duct tape at the store and then-"

"Don't tell me!" Buffy put her hands over her ears.

"You need to stop askin' if you don't want to know." Spike gave her a singsong rejoinder.

"Right. We need to pack and I have to charge the phone and you need more shirts and I can't-"

"Buffy." Spike seized her shoulders suddenly, stopping the torrent of worried chatter. Her eyes widened at the use of her real name. he paused, licking his lips trying to keep them from drying out with the lurking worry he felt. "Buffy, are you sure you wanna go back there? Your old man, much as I hate to say it, is a bright one. If he warned you to keep clear, he must not think it's safe." Blue eyes seared desperately into her, layers of silent entreaty in them.

Buffy's chin wobbled once as she tilted it up to him. "Are you going to be with me?" She asked softly.

"Of course I am, that's not the bloody point!" _The point is, will I lose you so quickly, after I found you? You might never mean to, but you love a lot of people. Not just me._

"Then it's safe. I'm safe with you. Nowhere's safe, but..."

"You don't need me to be safe. You're an army in blonde, Cutie." He let his hands trace her arms, down to those small but surprisingly strong hands.

"I love you. I want to go home." Buffy gripped his hands tight, tugging slightly, saying the last part of her desires silently. _I want you to come home with me. You _are_ part of home, part of where I'd like to be, scary as that is._

Those needy little pulls on his hands. He leaned in and kissed her hard, kissed her like the rest of the world didn't exist, because it wouldn't without her, not for him.

"Spike," she licked her lips, wet and slightly puffy now, as they pulled apart, "we can make something work, right?" He looked so startled. Startled glad or just in shock? She covered with a sudden rush of color to her cheeks. "We can get the car fixed?"

His fingers tangled in her hair. _Was always gonna deliver her safe. It was the contract. I finish the job._ "I have a better idea. You get yourself sorted, Luv. I'll go wake up sleepin' beauty."

* * *

"Held at milk point. This is weird, even for us." Buffy held the carton in her hands, Spike's hands were full of semi-conscious hired gun.

"I imagine some poor dairy farmer is sobbing his eyes out." Spike grunted. "Must've hit him too hard the last time."

"We need to stop that. I mean _you _need to stop that. I just talked to him and he-"

"Damn near shit himself. But you got the job done. Badass." He smirked over his shoulder.

Buffy followed Spike, who supported Collins, pinned, hobbled, half awake, and under threat of death by dairy products. They stumbled over branches and skidded in wet leaves down three miles of rocky gradient, looking for a hidden car.

"Hey- he did that stuff I only_ told _him about. He did it to _me._ All I did to him was tell him what it was like." Buffy shrugged defensively. _And threaten to make sure he understood personally. But I knew I'd never hurt him seriously. Didn't I?_

Spike paused and looked at her head on, draping the dragging figure over one strong forearm. "I think sayin' it all hurt you as much as it scared him." Another shrug. "You scared someone. He's gonna put a very, very bad man away because you did. Deal with it." He turned back around and gave Collins a little shake, both to get him back to full alertness and because his stupid actions were responsible for making his girl upset. "Bastard." Spike huffed softly.

Buffy caught up to him, fell into step beside him and pulled Collins between them, sharing the weight. "Know what? I'm the Slayer. If you're doing something bad, you'd better be afraid of me." She gave him a tired smile. "Otherwise, I'm pretty nice. Aren't I?"

"When you're not bein' an annoying little twit."

"Hey!"

"You're so sweet it hurts my fangs, Baby."

"That's better." She pouted at him. Between them, Collins moaned and mumbled.

"Wakey, wakey, or lose a leggy." Spike prodded.

"He doesn't mean that!" Buffy grabbed Collins' head and looked into confused, possibly concussed, eyes, "Seriously though. Wake up."

* * *

They found the car, parked in a verge off a heavily wooded piece of the mountain road. Spike had long since relieved Collins of his keys, and now he opened the black car."Now, a hit man is a bit like a boy scout." Spike began, running his hands along the insides.

"Some scout leader is sobbing now. Bad day for dairy farmers and scout leaders." Buffy mumbled, and tightened her grip on their prisoner.

"Meanin' they're always prepared." Spike ignored her and rummaged around in the trunk, then the floorboards, and at last, under the passenger's front seat, lodged behind the adjustment bar. He drew out a roll of soft black silk and leather, clinking softly. "Ah ha... pretty little sample case you've got there, Doc. Would one of these happen to be an antidote to the poison you fed the Slayer?"

"He didn't send an antidote. He wanted it to work." Collins grudgingly replied, his doubts growing about his employer, though he had far more doubts about his targets-turned-captors.

"Unfortunate for you. You'll have to play very, _very _nicely, because we can tell you first hand this stuff is very hard to fight off once it gets hold of you." Spike flicked through the few little vials, several empty, but one quite full.

"What are you looking for?" Buffy whispered.

"Something to help him have a nice, long nap..." Spike waved a vial of clear fluid under Collins' nose. "What's this do?"

"It- it's nothing. Just muscle relaxers. Powerful ones." Collins clamped his lips shut, thinking,_ Don't cooperate with the enemy! _

_What if _we're_ the enemy? She's in contact with the Council. I should ask to speak to them, it's what she wants me to do anyway. But what if it's all some sort of double bluff? She_ is _with the vampire. A savage, evil one._

"You don't write down any bloody dosages. This used on slayers?" Spike turned the bottle over and held it out to Buffy as well. Collins said nothing. "Oh really? You'll spill your guts about the big plan to murder the Slayer, but not about what you have in your stash?"

"I can tell you." Buffy handed back the vial. She'd seen one before. With an old fashioned syringe, just like the one in this case. Giles had showed it to her, part of his confession, his asking for forgiveness and second chances. Following orders then, too. Travers seemed to get some kind of sick thrill from making women weak and helpless, and asking men they should trust to do it.

Buffy pushed it away angrily. "They already put this stuff in me once this year. It's drugs for this sick test they do. They make you weak, steal your strength, then lock you in a house with a mad, crazy, vampire and see if you're alive in the morning."

Collins knew about the Cruciamentum. He'd just never met anyone who survived it. Never heard the anger in their voices. _Well, sometimes things in life make you angry. You carry on._ "Standard procedure." He said, albeit with a small prickling of discomfort.

"So when the vampire breaks loose, kills one of the Watchers guarding him, and then goes on a killing spree in town, ending with kidnapping a Slayer's mother and tying her up so he can use her as a model in a really sick photo shoot- that's _standard_?"

Those little details had been unknown to Collins, or to anyone not directly involved._ "She passed the Cruciamentum, but Rupert Giles showed he cannot be trusted as he became overly emotional during the test's administration."_ That's what they'd been told. "I-"

Spike was busy now, with sharp agitated movements, fitting the needle into the tube, shaking up the vial. "You know, even when I hated the Slayer- I quite liked her mum. An' from what I remember about Watchers- you lot encourage Slayers to live lonely, miserable lives, dependent on one of you. I'm sure you broke your own rules... letting her mum be 'involved' in your little test."

"Spike, stop, not the whole thing!" Buffy held Collins back as Spike pulled the plunger back as far as it would go, draining the relaxant into the syringe. "I don't know how much they gave me, but I couldn't break a pencil after a couple doses! You could relax his muscles so much that his brain unravels!"

"Brain's an organ, not a muscle."

"Well, his heart could stop beating!" She backed up a few steps, Collins with her.

"Fine, fine, half a dose. This way we can tie him up, put him in the trunk, and he won't need to be knocked out. He'll just be too weak to get free."

"Can he breathe in the trunk?"

"For a couple hours at a time. We'll stop every now an' again. We'll have to. You an' your bladder."

"Me? I'm fine, it's needing to get fresh air after you go through one of your stupid stink-arette packs. I swear, you're trying to smoke me."

"Slayer jerky. Tempting. Now hold him still, Buffy. We're wasting time."

"I just want to know how much you should give him! You could kill him!"

"If you're alive at the end, I'm still okay with that!"

The man in the middle tuned them out at that point, lost in his thoughts, and the feel of a small, but infinitely stronger than his, body pulling him back, out of harm's way. At least to a degree. A most unorthodox juxtaposition...

_Like them._ Collins strained to see behind him, and to make out the figure in the darkness before him.

They way they moved and spoke to each other. It gave him the nagging reminders of being forced to train new members of his division. He was a loner and he hated training 'juniors' more than any other of his contractual obligations. The way these two acted... two people forced to work together, despite all other inclinations, with the bickering and insulting. Yet there was softness underneath it. He could not say that from his own personal experience in his career, but from watching them.

_Part enemy, part friend, part lover._ Hit men, as they kept insisting on calling him by that vulgar term, are at least very good at observing.

She was sitting him on the grass now, firm foot on his ankle. If he so much as twitched, he knew she'd break it under her heel. She was holding the milk and the other things from his injection kit, the vampire was back looking in the car, searching for instructions, he imagined._ I could make a move now. They're distracted. _

_ So why don't I?_

He was afraid of being knocked out cold yet again, the other option for his travel, and afraid of being force fed poison, if something should go wrong. He knew their ultimate goal was to hand him over to Council, which would be good.

Sometimes you take your shot, and other times you decide to play for time, study your mark.

_ But you never switch sides halfway through a job!_

_What if I haven't switched sides, but Travers has? _Collins looked up from his seat in the damp earth, two figures hotly arguing in hissing whispers. Why hadn't Travers said there were two vampires? Two vampires during a Cruciamentum was against the rules to begin with. As was involving a civilian. Why hadn't he ever said an innocent's life was on the line? Why hadn't he said Rupert Giles was just evening the odds? It's not like a stuffy middle aged man, one of the bookworms, would be much good against any vampire, even a newborn.

_Why didn't he tell us there was a death on that assignment? Worse than a death? A turning? We receive training... training to avoid that eternity of being chained to a demon, of bodies never resting. Of becoming that which we hunt._

_ Dammit, I obey orders, but every soldier has the right to know what war he's fighting!_

"It's in the dossier." Collins said quietly.

"You big bleached- huh? Sorry, what?" Buffy stopped in mid insult.

"Couldn't hear you over the stupid." Spike grumbled, rising from the inside of the car.

"The dossier. You already pulled it out." Collins jerked his head to the black leather folder lying several feet away. "There's a dosage chart in the very back. Under her photo. It's in Vulgate Latin, so-"

"I was choirboy once. I can muck it out." Spike gave him a sidelong glance and carefully retrieved the folder. "If this has some nasty jack in the box type of goody when I open it-"

"I'll break your nose. I'm really good at it." Buffy told him.

"She is too." Spike opened it, pointing it away from himself. Nothing happened. "Hm. On the level there at least."

He vamped, burning eyes lighting the dark like two candle wick flickers, scanning papers- "Ohh, Slayer, look at me. They've done me a sketch."

"Aww. Eww. You're holding a gunky stick and there's a head behind you."

"We could cut that bit out. Put it in a frame, yeah?" He was only half joking. He took the photo of her and discreetly slid into his inner pocket.

"Hm. Okay." Buffy discreetly slipped the crinkled sketch into her jeans.

Collins began to feel his doubts reassert themselves.

"Here it is!" He peered at browned, faded script. 'One quarter of a gram every twelve hours induces a - heaviness in the limbs and comatose state of being."

"How old is that stuff? You shouldn't use medicine that's past its expiration date."

"It's written in an old language so most people can't read it, Slayer. It's not from old times." Spike paused. "Right? Not like I care. It didn't seem to do you more damage than you could fight off in a few days."

"Oh God... just don't give him too much." Buffy hoisted him up with a wince, and appealed to him once more. "I don't suppose there's a chance you'd come quietly and not try to escape at rest stops, is there?"

_Where's the girl who talked to me about living in a waking world of hell? _Collins stared at her, speechless. _Who seemed determined to put me there unless I gave them my cooperation? Where are the threats?_

_ Perhaps my silence says more than all my protestations._

"It's a 20 hour car ride. More. 'Cause we have to shop. This trip was murder on our clothes. Not to mention some _jerk_ poisoned our food so we have to get groceries." She gave him a pointed poke that felt nearly the same as jab punch.

"Don't offer him the option, Luv, that type would run no matter how deep in enemy territory they were. Good little soldiers, painfully loyal." Spike emptied all but a trickle of the drug back into its tube.

Collins remained mute. Given any chance to escape, he'd escape- provided he thought he'd have a better than even odds chance. In this case.

_They'll take me back to Council. We'll sort this out. It may be considered sort of a namby pamby option for someone in wet works, but at least this way I'm on the scene. I'm undercover like this. I'm getting vital clues, just listening to her. Clues for which side, that's another matter._

_ No matter. I will simply ask to speak to Travers first. When I get there. After they put me on the phone. I'll use my distress code, every agent knows the standard signal..._

"Just take me where you're taking me and be quick about it. I agreed to speak to someone at Council Headquarters. No more." He closed his eyes and sealed his lips tightly.

"Well. That does that." Before she could protest further, Spike jabbed the needle in on the man's upper arm, and scooped him up in a rough fireman's carry, tossing him in the back seat.

"Spike! Humans break!"

"Oh, I know. All except you." He shut the car door. _Even you. I thought I saw you shattering._ "I know you don't like it. I don't much like it either, for different reasons. You okay?"

"I'm fine." Buffy gave sudden shiver in the chilly mountain air. "It's just... strange."

"Then the two of us fit right in, Slayer." He moved to her side, then to her front. _We don't stop and give long, sweet kisses. We start and then we finish, all the way, owning each other, spending all we've got on each other. Never just kiss her._

She had the same thought. _We can't get all snuggly right now. Hostage handlers probably do not stop to make out._

_We never do what we're supposed to do. But we always get the job done._

"You drive me mad." Spike grunted in a half pleased, half frustrated way when she pressed up against him with a sudden urge.

"But you love it?"

"No. I love _you._"

Two shadows crashed back against the side of the car, kissing, tangling, making up lost time, and all the other things almost lost.

Collins' last thought as a not entirely unpleasant, drowsy feeling began to over take him was that they really needed to get a room.

* * *

"C'mon. It'll be light soon. I'd like to get down this effing mountain before _you _take the wheel." Spike drove the car back up the track to the cabin, Buffy adjusting her clothes and tossing bits of leaves from her hair out the window as she did so.

"If we put him in the trunk, where are we going to put our stuff?"

"In the back."

"That's where you sleep."

"This thing has tinted windows. I'll be alright enough up front. You don't let me get any sleep anyway with-"

"I know, I know, I _know_. Are you ever gonna get off my back about that?"

"Out of gas. In Portland. During morning rush hour. Nope. Hurry up and pack. I'll babysit."

* * *

While Buffy hurried into the house, Spike made a few adjustments to the car and its occupant, as well as taking care of their old Buick.

Spike bundled odds and ends from one car to the next, placing a tightly bound and gagged Collins in the trunk, which he inspected thoroughly.

"C'mon Mr. Bond... I bet you took every precaution. You didn't even leave a butt in the ashtray..." Spike found what he was looking for hidden under the spare tire. Small tool kit and a dummy license plate. "Swopsit." Spike winked at the limp body. He dropped it in, took the tool kit out and went to work.

* * *

"Okay, I have a serious issue." Buffy trundled out of the cabin, arms full. "Two, really. My hair looks like a bad Halloween wig. I need deep conditioning therapy. I can _not_ see Cordelia Chase like this."

"An' what's the other issue?" Spike rolled his eyes and stood up from the back bumper.

"We don't have any ice, or a cooler. The milk is going to go bad, and it's the only motivation we have."

He gave her an evil little smirk, "_Well..._"

"The only motivation we have outside of you turning him into a vampire which is _not okay_. So add ice to the list, but by the time any stores open it'll be-"

"Slayer. It's poisoned. The milk is poisoned. When it's warm it'll just be poisoned and curdled. If anything, more motivation. Now put the stuff in the back seat and go toss this in the lake."

"What's this?" Buffy dropped their bags, now more weapons than clothes or supplies, and held out her hand. "License plates?"

"Two of 'em. I feel bad for the poor little rental car agencies, but I imagine they'll manage somehow." He snarked and stood up, a different plate now on the back of the black sedan. "Assassins don't leave traceable records, no plates that match the cars they use. Neither should we." _If a goody-goody like her librarian does it, _I'm_ doin' it. i'm the bad guy after all. By definition, at any rate. _

"Oh man." Buffy ran her hands through her dry hair. "Stealing cars. Kidnapping. Sleeping with the evil undead. My mom's gonna have a cow. I really_ am_ turning into a juvenile delinquent."

"You're over eighteen. You're just a delinquent now." Spike shoved half the bags in the backseat while she took the other.

"I feel so much better, gee thanks." Buffy groaned.

"You're still their hero y'know. I got good ears. I hear the sap they laid out on you." He grinned crookedly, looking at pink shafts of light beginning to break up the night and kept the smile on his face with an effort. By tomorrow's daylight, it'd be done. For weeks, he prayed that this damn show would close, and now he was worried about what happened after the curtain was rung down. "Let's get you home."

* * *

Joyce smiled calmly, in her best sweet, innocently maternal way.

"Wow. I'm seeing where Buffy gets the hidden personality thing." Xander watched Joyce smooth out her skirt and fluff her hair.

"Shh. And stop eating all the muffins. Those are bait." Willow smacked his hand.

"Making muffins before the dawn's early light. That's love." Xander kept chewing.

"Stop eating the love, Xander." Giles said crossly. "I'm not sure who these two are. I haven't seen Gervais and MacAndrews for several days. Not all Watchers are easily swayed by breakfast foods and kind smiles. They may not even show up. I've hardly seen a car in the area, and Fallows surely has-"

"They just drove past. I'm sure that's them. They stopped and looked at your car." Wesley twitched the curtain closed. "I don't think all this subterfuge is necessary, either. Fallows will order them to pick up Collins. It's simple."

"Getting anyone to speak to us is not 'simple'." Giles grimaced. "And when they see who's handing him over, when they see we've lied, when- oh when everything, Wesley, nothing is ever simple. You're still new at this, wait until you've been doing it for nearly four years..." He rose in agitation. "Joyce, I wish you'd let me approach them first."

"No." Joyce said simply and seized her plate of muffins from under Xander's nose. "You're the one who let her bring a hired killer back with her instead of making her drop that man off at a police station or - or something. Something safe. Now she's bringing him back, traveling all that way with a vampire on one side and a murderer on the other!" Joyce looked furious and near tears. "I would have stopped her. She listens to me."

"Not bloody likely." Giles murmured but then nodded politely. "I know, I have reservations as well. But I'm sure Buffy has her attacker immobilized."

"You mean tied up?" That was a horrifying, if comforting, thought as well.

"W-well, yes. Or in the um. Cargo area. Of the car." Giles polished his glasses.

"My baby wouldn't put someone in the trunk of a car!" Joyce shrilled indignantly. _But I would. I'd tie him to the top like a hunting trophy rather than have him anywhere near my baby._

"No, of course not." Giles soothed. Then allowed himself a small, not entirely kind smile. "But Spike would. That's one reason he's with her." _He's not afraid to do whatever needs to be done for the woman he loves. Oh dear. He rather changed the object of his affections, though. This changed from being about Drusilla somehow... As long as Buffy comes home alive and well, I don't care. _

"The car stopped outside." Willow whispered.

Joyce pulled her happy mask back on, whisked open the door and strode into the street. "Oh, gentlemen," she caroled, muffins held out as a symbol of goodwill "don't you get hungry spying on people?"

"All of you are mad." Wesley shook his head.

"You have to be a bit mad to survive here." Giles straightened his tie and followed her outside.

* * *

"Are you sure you're going to be okay up front? It's getting really bright out." Buffy slid into the car.

"We're down the bloody mountain, I'm peachy." Spike turned up the collar of his duster and pulled his shades down low. "Jerky?"

"Yep."

"Smokes?"

"Nope."

"What?"

"Get 'em yourself, Sunshine Boy." Buffy backed out of the parking lot at a gas station. "Oh, and the only tee shirts they had said A Bad Day Fishing is Better than A Good Day Working."

"Think I'd rather go starkers." Spike looked into the bag, horrified. "Oh thank God, it's black, I can just turn it inside out." He sighed and handed her a pre-made, pre wrapped sandwich and soda.

"Thanks." She took it from him and bit into it ravenously- then frowned. "Oh. I was just about to say it was nice eating food that won't kill me. But I'm not sure that this isn't part rubber."

"It won't kill you. Just make you appreciate edible stuff when you get it."

They drove in silence for a minute.

"How's- um. How is-" Buffy felt weird asking about someone that was put in the back of a car. Showing concern and doing what they were doing to him didn't add up in her mind.

"Sleeping beauty is happily snoring away. Shook him an' all." Spike popped her soda top for her and held it out. "Hey. You got on the right exit to the highway an' everything."

"Yep."

Silence.

"So you can shut off the turn signal, unless you'd like to keep mergin' into that bridge."

"Shoot!"

He chuckled softly and closed his eyes, but he knew he wouldn't sleep.

She must've known it too. "If we're going to stay awake, somebody better start talking. Oh God. I can't believe I said that to you. Are you sure we were just in Oregon and not in some parallel universe?"

"Anything north of California feels like a soddin' parallel dimension to me."

"Hm. Point." She waited. "I know you're not sleeping."

"How? I don't breathe."

"I can just- tell. I slept in the same bed with you for a week, I know how you- feel beside me." She concluded in a rush. _Why is this so hard? This is supposed to be the easy part. Back to reality, home, Mom, friends, mall, summer of goofing off legitimately... He doesn't fit in anywhere, but with me, Spike's starting to fits in _everywhere. "Every other time I wanted you to shut up, you couldn't be quiet for ten seconds. Now you've lost your voice?"

"Nothin' to say, I'm nappin'."

"Nothing to _say_? You spent two whole hours on why British cigarettes are better than American ones on the way to Seattle. I threatened to pour holy water in your lap and you just said 'Bugger filters, what the world needs is smokes for vamps. No surgeon bloody general's warning for me.'"

"Aww, Pet. You do listen." Spike gave her a Cheshire grin.

"Ugh, never mind. You don't want to talk to me, fine." She flipped the radio on angrily and absentmindedly trolled through the stations, listening from something that wasn't crackling.

_I want to talk to you and never shut up. An' I will. I'll talk your ears off your head. _He looked at her with something like longing under the dark lenses._ But I can't say the one thing I'd really want to say, 'cause I know what it's like to love someone to the point where you give everything. An' cause I've got to believe in someone someday, an' you're the likeliest one. _

_I can never ask you not to go home. I don't know how to ask what I get out of all this, without sounding like I don't believe in you. I believed in you when no one else did, at least more than everyone else did. I know who you are. I _love_ who you are._

* * *

_The world is a vampire, sent to drain_

_Secret destroyers, hold you up to the flames_

_And what do I get, for my pain?_

_Betrayed desires, and a piece of the game._

Buffy's fingers flexed on the wheel. _Some until someday, that's what we said. It was a break. To kill the pain. Just a little piece. That's what we said, and we got caught up. Right?_

Spike watched her thin leg press down and the needle jerk up on the speedometer. _She must really want to get home. Or at least drop off the livestock._ He strained his ears and heard two heartbeats, one faint and sleepy, one racing along. _She doesn't want to get away from me. Even though she should..._

* * *

_ Even though I know -_

_I suppose I'll show-_

_All my cool and cold - _

_like I'm told..._

"Gonna take it past ninety, Luv?"

"Huh?" Buffy's foot bounced and skidded, hitting the brake, the car's engine echoing the wail of the tormented sound on the radio.

"I don't mind if you make good time. The sooner we're done this job from hell the better, yeah?"

"Yeah. Right." _No. No, not at all. I mean, the 'job', yes. But I changed what I meant, both of us did. We _did_. If being out of my mind doesn't change things, then where we are shouldn't change things! It _can't _change things._

He'd expected her to deny it, at least tell him again that nothing would change, even if everything changed. _We're both changed, and you bloody well know it, Slayer. _The silence between them drew out as the angry background rose into a scream.

_Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage_

_Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage_

_Then someone will say what is lost can never be saved_

"Spike." Buffy burst out suddenly, loudly. "I know you- you chose. Me. And - um. Thank you. For choosing. Me, I mean." _Great. Brain to mouth failure._

Spike lifted his dark glasses. "Yeah. I did. Still do."

Her shoulders sagged as she let out her pent up breath- and the wheel twisted, setting off a blare of horns in the next lane.

"Y'know, eventually the police are gonna pull us over for somethin'. You mind if I kill a copper or two?" Spike slammed the wheel back straight, hand over hers.

She ignored the provocation. "I keep thinking you're suddenly going to realize what you gave up." _Dru was yours for years and years. _

"Keep thinkin' you're not gonna be able to keep me around. Wouldn't be the first time. Or that you think you owe me."

"I do!" _You never let me down. _

"I owe _her_." A challenge in his darkening blue eyes. "Does that mean somethin' between us?"

Buffy tore her eyes from him and focused them back on the road with an angry shrug.

_Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage_

_Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage_

_Then someone will say what is lost can never be saved_

"Love doesn't _have_ to mean together, that's all." Angel's retreating form blurred with the glare on the dark hued windshield. "Some people think other stuff matters more."

His hand gripped her wrist hard enough to make her gasp, bruised and bloodied knuckles on chafed raw skin. "Not. To. Me." He growled off each word. "You know that. You bloody well know it. Stop thinkin' about everything else and think about _us,_ and you know that you know it. Somethin' inside tells you. You learned how to listen to that little voice, didn't you?"

_Tell me I'm the only one_

_Tell me there's no other one_

* * *

_ Him and me. _She turned her wrist smoothly into his grasp, letting hands fall, lay between them."Hey, you had a century to get it right. I had a couple years."

"You mean I owe you ninety eight more years?"

She blushed slightly and rolled her eyes. "Don't say owe. Just have my back." The blonde finally whispered.

"Done." Spike agreed. He let her fingers drift away, back to the leather on the wheel. Watched her every move. _She's mine. _

"So. You said you like California, right?" She asked a lot in a casual question.

"I could live there. Pretty scenery." Spike angled himself back against the window, coat as a shade, and watched her take them closer to home.

* * *

_Day Twenty Seven..._

Sylvia stopped by the post office at the end of her shift, as she always did before heading home to the tiny short-term rental she'd chosen. A tired looking woman, pale in pale pink scrubs and sensible white sneakers, the only one standing in a deserted lobby. She unlocked the small silver box that was always empty- and her heart gave a thrill as she saw a single piece of mail.

_Finally. Instructions. Orders. Something. _Sylvia hurried to the small compact she'd bought since being placed on this assignment, tearing open the envelope.

_Care coverage discontinued._

There was a sick twist inside her. Her keys fell onto the floor as she read the three words over and over, that tumultuous feeling warring with a long-awaited rush of power.

A promise given a mere month ago, from the highest official, to her, a Watcher-in-Training... always in training. She'd failed the active duty exam by a few measly points, and rules are rules. A trained Watcher without all the skills still needs a position in the organization, so she had been pressed into menial tasks for the last ten years. Until one day when Mr. Travers interviewed her for a terribly boring, sad sounding assignment, the observation of an unconscious, dying Slayer.

_A month ago..._

_"But when she does die, Ms. Lewis, oh the tragic day, it is also a glorious one, for a new Slayer rises..." _

She remembered a faint rustle of unease as he paused a little too long, staring a little too long, as if he owned this mousy employee. No, not an employee, a soldier, desperate for a battlefield promotion, her life completely under control of one charismatic, powerful general.

"The training at the Academy is rigorous. Not everyone makes it to that upper echelon, the coveted post of Watcher to a Slayer, or possible Slayer. There have been times in the past however, when the Head of Council, _assigned _someone to that position. Someone with a special quality that others may have, shall we say, passed over?"

Passed over described Sylvia perfectly. Frumpy and too short, and only growing dumpier and shorter with every passing year of disappointment on her shoulders and desk jobs under her hips. "Qualities, Sir?"

"Loyalty. Unbreakable, _unquestioning_ loyalty."

"Sir, I am loyal to this cause, I am-"

"I know. Which is why I instantly thought of you."

He smiled so smoothly, she suspected him of lying, but then- why would he other to lie to her?

Perhaps because of what he said next.

"Faith Lehane must never wake up. To have her active again would be to have something stronger than a vampire, more evil too, since she's a human but she is willingly in league with demons. She is not soulless, she only acts as though she is."

"Maybe if she'd had a different Watcher, Sir, someone more- motherly, more-" Sylvia had mentioned eagerly.

"Unquestioning loyalty!" He roared, and Sylvia was silenced. Then he preened his waistcoat back down and looked at a pocket watch. For a horrible moment, she'd thought he was about to say the interview was over, that he would not need her services. Instead he gave her the job- and the promise of a far, far better one.

"It's cruel to let her suffer, fading for days, months, perhaps even years. But a recovery isn't a possibility either. I may never ask you to do this, but if I send you word- you need to... discontinue her care. Let her go. Find that eternal rest. Poor child. May she find peace in death that she never found in life." A crocodile look of mourning was burned away in an intense glare. The sorrowing voice turned hard and domineering. "But only on my orders, Lewis. No one else's. You answer to me. I am the Head of this Council, and only I have the power to override certain board decisions. Such as assigning a Watcher to the next Slayer called- provided that Slayer is instilled with the same loyalty. To me. No matter what else happens."

_The present..._

Sylvia was aware her car was pinging loudly in the empty parking lot, signaling her door had been open too long. She stopped staring unseeingly at the piece of paper and looked at the digital numbers on her clock radio. After midnight. Her shift had ended.

The problem with posing as a nurse was that eventually someone had noticed her working almost around the clock, and now they were watching her. Even fake credentials and an actual knowledge of patient care could only get you so far.

_Tomorrow. It'll have to wait until tomorrow. _Tomorrow they moved Lehane to long term care- the small, windowless rooms in the basement wing, for the ones they doubt will ever open their eyes again.

But it really doesn't matter, Sylvia forced herself to rationalize._ It's all part of life and death._ _When one falls, another rises. The Council, we Watchers, we're what binds it all together._

* * *

"How much longer do you think they'll need?" A smartly dressed man, trying not to show his dislike for the California heat by remaining staunchly buttoned up to his chin, paced through Joyce's living room.

"You've been here for eighteen hours. You can sit down now." Xander let out a loud stage whisper.

Joyce hushed him and Giles cleared his throat.

"They'll arrive soon. They've had to make several stops." Giles answered from under a paper. "We'll call you when they let us know they're near, if you'd like to go back to your _hotel._"

"We don't mind the long hours. We've spent far too much time in cars, lately."

"Take the hint. Don't you guys export politeness?" Xander muttered.

Giles hastily spoke, "Xander, Willow, why don't you head home? Come back in a few hours. Get some rest. Goodness knows we could all use it."

"Are you kidding? This is like waiting for Santa!" Willow bounced, bright eyed on the arm of Joyce's sofa. "Only more inter-faith."

"And carrying prisoners instead of toy trucks and candy canes." Xander settled himself pointedly into the sofa. "I'm family. I'm not leaving."

"Ditto!" Willow raised her hand to be counted.

"I guess I'll make more coffee." Joyce wearily got up, and Wesley politely stirred himself from his stupor by the front window to offer his help. "I can manage. Seven cups?"

"Two cocoas?"

"Coming up." Willow trailed her, un-rebuffed, and then Xander after her.

* * *

"Good. Now that the civilians are gone." Martin and Quinn exchanged a glance. "You said Collins was subdued?"

"Apparently so." Giles and Wesley exchanged a glance with these new "guests". "Before you ask, no, I do not how that was accomplished. But I'm sure once he understands the full situation, he'll come along peacefully. He's not on trial. Exactly."

Another glance. "Fallows explained the situation as best he could. He'll speak to Collins before we take him to the airport for transfer, and explain how to handle it."

"He still told you to watch us, didn't he?" Wesley asked bitterly.

"You are certainly worth watching. You lied to the Council." Martin said warningly.

"No, we lied to _Travers,_ even if we did it through others. We told the truth to the Council." Giles peered over the edge of his glasses. "Travers is one man. He is not an entire governing body. Don't begin to confuse the two."

Quinn gave his associate a brief shake of his head, to warn him from pursuing the conversation. "I'm sure the board can sort it all out. Especially once they let Collins hear an overview of the evidence, perhaps read the transcripts."

"Yes. Yes, that'll convince him." Giles rolled his eyes and concluded in an undertone, "Ruthless killer. Thinks with his gun."

Another set of furtive glances. "Hrm. Fallows told Gervais and MacAndrews to rendezvous with us. He said they were out in Washington state, near the Oregon border?"

Giles coughed on a sudden intake of air. "Were they really?"

"How odd." Wesley agreed completely unconvincingly.

It was Martin's turn to roll his eyes. "Based on their last contact, I'd say the girl-"

"She has a name."

"Ms. Summers, then, will be here several hours before they'll reach us."

"If it's strength of numbers you're worried about-" Wesley got to his feet, suddenly refreshed, "I've been getting quite a lot of-"

"Yes..." Quinn shook his head regretfully with an apologetic wince. "Sorry, old man. Still, as we are the only Watchers on this coast, - the only_ active _ones- I suppose we'll have to scrape along as best we can."

"Hm. To transport someone from wet works across the bally continent and the Atlantic as well? I tell you, I'd feel a damn sight better if there were fourteen of us instead of four of us, say what you will about discretion."

"I suppose I could go. 'Inactive' as I am. If I can be trusted." Giles said with a not quite true smile to match the undercurrent of frost in his voice.

"We'll manage with who's available." Martin gave him the same sort of nearly-there, barely civil smile.

Wesley paused on his return to the window, a frown on his face.

"What's wrong, Wes?" Xander returned, two steaming mugs in his hands.

"Oh nothing." Wesley reassured him. "I just feel as if I'm forgetting something."

_To be continued..._


	30. Chapter 30

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: One or two chapters to go! __Things are wrapping up, folks, so pardon the jumping around. We have a lot of resolutions to make and loose ends to tie up- or cut off. Also, I'm sorry if nothing "big" that you were waiting for happened here, but it's already about 11,000 words, and if I'd kept going this would be a ridiculously long read!_

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, micmoc, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, Touch the Dark, hbmckidd, ValidescopeWest, Rachel, Alottalove, Cavementftw, Maire Ailbhe, Illusera, ShyL, mike13z50, Loverswalk89, Suzanne, KittenofDoomage, PeaceHeather, CailinRua, Neinka, cosmiclove, Haleycc, Slayergirl, Bamboo Angel, Loveisrealand4eva, Clara Johnson, Kathryn Merlin, Spit, kse93, and Tawny._

_The best of the best! I love and thank you for all the unending support!_

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XXX**

_Day Twenty Seven, mid morning..._

"You have to get out of the car."

"I don't! Which reminds me- does your place have a garage? Can we just pull in? Looks a little less police worthy if we don't drag a body out of the trunk in broad daylight."

"Yes it does, and good point- but you have to get out of the car now." Buffy insisted, looking furtively around the rest stop. "We haven't stopped since we switched."

"Which reminds me- you look like hell. Didn't you sleep at all?"

"Uh- no. It was hard over the all grunge death metal station."

"I kept it down!"

"It's all screaming. There is no such thing as 'keeping it down'." Buffy pulled the keys out of the ignition. "I have to pee, and so does he."

"How do you know?"

"'Cause he's a human!"

"Well then-" Spike looked out at the bright sky, "I say lucky me an' my dead water works. He can hold it until we get to where we're goin'. I've already done enough human chores to last me a decade between him and you."

"If we get there- and he does something on my mom's carpet- she'll probably hit you with an ax again." Buffy said in a little sing song voice.

Spike swung himself out in a waft of smoking leather and sunglasses. "Pop the goddamn trunk."

* * *

_Ten minutes later..._

"Valet service. Nice." Spike hid in the tree line, Collins, now awake and hopping mad- with his captor in not much better of a mood- watched her pull the car up- only scraping the tires slightly. "Open the boot. Trunk to you."

"No." Buffy held open the back door.

"What?"

"Put him in the back."

"In the back?" Spike looked horrified at the mention. "No! He'll bust out a window, he'll -"

"Be with you, and you can keep him in line." She marched over to Collins and grabbed him by his scratchy, graying chin and peered into his bloodshot eyes. "You. You're going to my mom's house. She FREAKS about blood on the carpet, or mud, or demon guts. Even ash would piss her off."

"An' she swings a mean ax, mate." Spike roughly punched him on the shoulder- the guise of a friendly gesture meant to cause a hairline fracture.

Collins, since gagged, could say nothing, but raised his eyebrows and coughed in pain, looking at her.

"I just spoke to my Watcher. He has a bunch of other Watchers, 'official' ones, the kind you are- only not trying to kill me- waiting for you. You tell them the truth- and we're going to show them this stuff." Buffy gestured to the car, to all the proof it held, the dossier, the drugs. "And then you leave with them." She motioned to Spike with a single tilt of her head, and they half shoved, half dragged Collins into the backseat, Buffy temporarily on one side, Spike on the other.

"Do you think you can be good for an hour?" Buffy smiled sweetly.

"Or do you want to get pulled out of the trunk like a piece of human luggage?" Spike hissed.

Collins looked on either side of him. Then closed his eyes and sank back.

"I'll take that as a yes."

* * *

"Yes, I'm sure she said they were within an hour." Giles spoke to Fallows on the phone. "I'm sorry to delay, but we haven't passed the deadline until midnight your time, surely?"

"No, you've got the time. It isn't the time constraints, it's the waiting. Travers seems oddly calm. I can't imagine why. I swear, Giles, Wyndham-Pryce... if this has somehow been a colossal misunderstanding or anything of that sort-"

"How can you suggest that after all the evidence? How can you imagine we would go to all this effort for a set up? With as much we stand to lose!" Giles demanded.

"It's not as though we have the resources you have at your disposal!" Wesley chimed in, offended.

"I hope Mrs. Summers gets reimbursed for all these angry long distance calls." Willow muttered.

"Your father, Pryce, _your father, _is on this board. He's incensed. If Travers wiggles out of this somehow- he'll have your family stricken from the rolls, from the halls-"

"And I'll never get asked round to Christmas dinner again." Wesley said with something that approached sarcasm. "Oh dear, oh dear." Inside, his stomach clenched. His father's anger had terrified him his entire life.

Fallows sighed. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine there being a way he's innocent in this. He clearly is _not_ innocent, but it's the question of how far in it is he? What in the world has he got to be calm about?"

* * *

"Stop snarling, I keep thinking I ran over a cat." Buffy glared into the backseat.

"He keeps lookin' at the doorhandles!" Spike pointed angrily at Collins. "We should have taped the locks down. Or disabled them. They can do that in specially rigged cars."

"This is not specially rigged. This is just really annoying. We just stopped for gas, how many miles does this thing get per gallon?"

"Well, miracles still happen. The Valley Girl now knows that these things travel in miles- and on gas." Spike snarked. Babysitting in the backseat without the benefit of a blanket, blood, or darkness had put him on edge. Every tiny twitch the cramped and bound Collins made was met with violent suspicion.

"We should have stopped at a gas station, not a rest stop. Why don't they build malls by the highways?"

Spike and Collins made twin groans, and Spike elbowed him sharply. "Oi. She's _my_ Slayer. I get to groan. You shut up."

"Mmmf!" Collins kicked the back of the seat in front of him, making Buffy turn and horns blare as two tires wandered into the next lane.

"You wanna get back in the trunk?"

"Mm! Mmf!" Collins mumbled something angrily and jerked his head towards Spike who was sliding into game face.

"Stop vamping, you're scaring him!"

"Bloody right I should! An' I'm hungry!"

"Don't make me come back there!"

* * *

She had to get back there. Sooner, not later. The waiting to do it, to put the plan in motion was worse than actually doing it. Once she was done it, it would be over.

"It's Sylvia. I called to see if you needed any shifts covered today?" The pseudo-nurse paced her rented room and talked to her station captain on the cordless phone.

"You've only been off for a few hours!"

"Well, I know there's a bit of a bug going 'round." Sylvia bluffed easily.

"I know before you came here, you were an agency nurse, but hospitals have rules about how many hours someone can work before they're considered too tired and nothing but a liability. After the amount of time you've spent in here, you're lucky I don't keep you off for thirty six hours instead of twenty four!"

Sylvia forced herself to laugh at the good natured scolding. "I'll see you tomorrow then." She hung up quickly and went back to pacing in silence.

* * *

The living room became a somber farce. Five adults pacing, criss crossing, not looking at each other, grunting civilly if their paths collided, while two teens sat on the sofa and watched them move back and forth like a five-sided tennis match.

"What's the name of that big tennis game? It's like the super bowl of tennis?" Xander asked in an undertone at one point.

"Wimbledon?" Willow asked, inclining her head, her eyes never leaving the action.

"Yeah..." He watched Wesley and Giles start at the sound of a car driving up the street, then keep moving. "Where do they have that?"

"England, I think."

"Thought so."

Are you sure the garage is open?" Giles suddenly demanded, for perhaps the third time in the last fifteen minutes.

"Yes, I am_ sure_!" Joyce snapped back, hands on her temples, also for the third time.

"Very emotional people, aren't they?" Quinn remarked to his partner.

"Thoroughly unsuitable."

Wesley whipped around on his heel, glaring, "Watch your mouths, or I'll be putting those old school ascots right up your-"

"They're here! They're here! Car's pulling into the driveway!" Willow yipped excitedly and pushed through Giles' arms and bolted to the door.

"That's not them, that's not the right sort of car and- oh dear Lord- Buffy's driving!" Giles forgot all his worry, all his fear, and everything but the sight of her face.

"She's driving!? I told her she couldn't take her license test until she paid me back for the repairs on the Jeep!"

"How about we act like we care after we're busy removing her from the guy trying to murder her, huh?" Xander pushed past her as well.

"I care because I don't want her to run the car straight through the house and get hurt when she's almost safe!" Joyce angrily cried, and then impulsively grabbed Giles hand as they were scampering out the door. "She's home!"

"She's home!"

* * *

"We're home!" Buffy accelerated joyfully into the driveway.

"Slayer! Slayer, that garage is coming up awful fast. Slow down."

"Giles' car! Hi Giles' car!" She beamed over her shoulder at the old citroen parked in front.

"Yes, yes, brilliant, Luv, but- brake! That's the left pedal, idiot!" Spike met Collins' darting eyes. "I always thought she'd kill me one day." He mumbled and then braced himself against the backseat. "_Buffy,_ brake!"

"Say stop next time!" Buffy crashed her foot down and the car juddered into the garage. She threw it into park with a minimum of screeching and without touching the back wall of the garage.

Collins and Spike did not share the full joy of the situation. Buffy sprang out of the car as her family and friends flooded her, a mass of happy tears and shrieks no one could fully understand.

"You drove!"

"You're home!"

"Missed you!"

"Love you!"

"NEVER, EVER AGAIN!"

"Thank God!"

"Buffy!"

"See? Aren't you glad you didn't finish her off?" Spike stood slowly, keeping one hand in Collins' collar, dragging him with him across the backseat. Collins didn't give any indication either way. "Well, you should be. I am." Spike concluded softly and hauled him out. "Oi! Somebody wanna take this?" He held Collins aloft by one hand, making the man wheeze through his gag.

Gasps of horror echoed around the cramped garage, and Martin and Quinn rushed forward.

Buffy rushed back. Giles, Wesley, and Xander somehow seemed to end up in the middle.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Buffy looked at the new people. "Who are you and how do I know you're playing on our team? Giles? Introduce me?"

"She has a vampire holding a human hostage and she wants to know what team _we're_ on?" Martin demanded.

"A hungry vampire." Spike sang idly, eyes rolling up to the dangling captive. "But I haven't bitten anyone." Buffy's eyes flickered to his and he smoothly kept speaking, "So lets not bring demons into this. Or I'd have to ask you lot about the devil-dealin' bastard you work for."

"Spike, put him down, you're freaking people out." Buffy tugged Collins back to his feet, and pushed him towards Giles. "Like I said- introduce me?"

"This is Mr. Martin and Mr. Quinn of the Internal Affairs Department of the Watcher's Council." Giles said quietly with a terse nod at each.

"Like-if Watchers are dating other Watchers? Giles, this guy had more weapons in his suitcase than I do in my whole _house_. You can't hand him over to them, this is not a case of sleeping around!"

Collins jerked free suddenly and scooted himself to Martin and Quinn's startled figures. "Hm! Hmph!" He made a frustrated, querulous sound. Martin reached for his bound wrists and Quinn pulled off his gag.

"I want to call headquarters before I speak to anyone about anything! I'm talking, but only to Travers!"

The Watchers exchanged glances. "That may be difficult. To speak to him directly. But a phone call seems a reasonable request."

Collins gave everyone a look of pure venom. "I'm not going to be fobbed off with underlings, I want Travers."

"Then you'll have to hope they let him take calls in his cell." Wesley spoke calmly, that polite, polished voice sliding smoothly under the anger he was radiating. "I recorded a majority of the conversations he had with me the week leading up to Buffy's disappearance, and the week after it. Including the one where he believed she was still clinging to life- just trapped in the wreckage of the high school." Wesley watched Collins' face slacken, and smiled sadly. "The one where he said I didn't have to fight her... just finish her off. They consider recordings like that enough evidence to keep him from leaving head quarters."

Collins didn't believe. Refuse to believe. But words still managed to seep out of the confused brain and into the air. "He asked you to... but you were her-"

"Watcher? I think Quentin lost sight of the job definition awhile ago. By all means, ask him to explain his reasoning to you." Wesley held the door open for the trio, looked longingly back at the knot of people forming around Buffy, then followed the outsiders into the house.

* * *

Faith blinked once as they removed her from the bright, white room. No one noticed. No one cared. They were all staring at little monitors and little tubes.

"You sure we need to move her down to long term care? She looks better than she did."

"How can you say that? She's been in a coma for a month. She's a stick. A dead, white stick. Her vitals might be a little better today, but we're moving her around, it's not like she's getting better. Body has to show _some_ response. It's only outside forces."

_Outside... forces._ Her eyes were too heavy to open again. _Dying. Dead, white stick._ Only outside forces ever moved her. Needing to get away, needing to stay alive, running, fighting, hiding. From whatever.

_Did I ever have any choices? _

_ Yeah. But I was usually scared to make the hard ones. _Her first and last thought in a month of black slumber. Brain waves dipped back down once more.

A single tear went unnoticed down her cheek and into the tangled mat of her long brown hair as they bore her into the shadowy depths of the building.

* * *

"Should go in the house. I don't think we ought to leave him alone with Heckle, Jeckle, and Poindexter." Spike also didn't think he could take being near her. Watching her slip into her old life, the life he wasn't part of. He moved forward, skirting Buffy, skirting glares from her mother and the boy, curious looks from the old man and the redhead. He spared her a smile. "Red." She returned it with a tiny wave. He risked more. "Joyce. Watcher. _You_." Buffy punched him in the side and he looked defensively at her, "What? I forgot a name, three outta four isn't bad!"

"When are they leaving? Giles, please make them leave, I just want this to be _done_! Please tell me it's done!" Buffy tugged on Giles' shirt like an impatient three year old, pleading in every line of her tired, darkened face.

"Two other Council members will be here soon, a few hours at the most. They'll receive instructions for transport, and take Collins away. Hopefully his evidence will be enough to-" Spike shoved something in his hand, a black folder and a small case.

"Evidence." Spike smirked.

"Oh yeah. Milk." Buffy looked at her mother. "Do we have any really, _really_ strong Tupperware?" She reached carefully back into the car and pulled out the container, wrinkling her nose. "Don't touch. It's been in the car all day, so it's gone bad. Not to mention it'll kill you after slowly turning you insane."

"That's the- that's the stuff that makes you...?" Willow's agile mind stumbled in horror. "Put that down!" Willow shrieked, and frantically waved at her returned best friend.

"It's fine unless you swallow it. So- Mom? Any titanium lying around?"

"I'll get something." Giles deftly removed it from her hands. "Taking care of all this unpleasantness is part two."

"Of what? What's part one?"

"This." Giles put his glasses up on top of his head and bear hugged her. "You're alive."

"You're back!" Xander piled on.

_And all the happy little hugging continues_, Spike thought bitterly, resentfully, shuffling back, lighting up a smoke and looking off to the side. _Drusilla all over again. Save her life, get her exactly what she wanted and then she'd be distracted by the next pretty little-_

She was pulling him in, pulling him over.

_Buffy's not like that. Buffy's never been like that. Slayer is-_

She jumped up, into his arms, and kissed him, cigarette thrown under foot and stamped on as an afterthought.

_Slayer's kissing me. In front of everyone. Because she's mine._

_ An' I'm hers. _

"Thanks for getting me home." Buffy pulled back and looked up at him with quietly sparkling eyes.

"Always." Spike swallowed and looked over her shoulder at the four faces which wore expressions ranging from shock to disgust. "I wanted to bring you back more'n anything."

A pause, a moment where no one seemed to be able to make words which would accurately convey the jumble of thoughts.

Willow only needed one word. "Tea?"

"Hm?"

"Tea." Willow tugged Giles' arm with one hand and Xander's elbow with the other. "_Tea_!"

"Oh yes. Oh, of course, you must be hungry." Giles seemed to wake up.

"I made muffins." Joyce also blinked rapidly, as though coming out of a stupor.

"There's casserole. In the freezer. There's casseroles to last until _doomsday_ in the freezer." Xander shared his intimate knowledge of the food supply.

"You mean they'll last a year?" Buffy teased and sighed, letting the fear go, all of it. Everyone laughed or groaned. "We have to go to the butcher's later." Spike let her lead him into the house, finger laced. "Can I borrow the car, Mom?"

"I want to speak to you about that young lady- but not today." More groans, laughter.

"You can borrow my car, Buff. If you can get the scary secret agent man and Fangs here in one piece-"

"Oi! I have a name!"

"_Spike_ is so much prettier than Fangs, isn't it?" Xander remarked caustically.

"It isn't as glamorous as 'Xander', I'll admit." Spike snarled.

"So you _do _remember my name, huh?" Xander slammed a frozen casserole down on the counter top. "I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if you forgot, how many people have you knocked unconscious?"

"Plenty. If I do it to _you_ again, do I get to add one to the total, or doesn't it count the second time around?"

"Everyone be quiet! There's a long distance interrogation happening in the next room." Giles ordered. "Sit in the dining room, I'll fetch the tea things. Xander, get plates."

_It can't be this easy._ Buffy let her giddy best friend pull her into a chair, noting that Willow did avoid touching the vampire who was linked to her.

"I better shut the blinds. So Spike doesn't catch on fire." Willow coughed nervously.

"Thanks, Red." Spike coughed as well. He watched Buffy's eyes following her hungrily, the friend she'd been pining for- who was edging around her. _Because of me_. He was selfish. He wouldn't have minded if Slayer wanted a life of running through long nights and loving through days, just the two of 'em. But she doesn't. _She wants it all, and the more I get to know her, more I think she ought to have it. _

The redhead closed the last blind and hurried to scoot a chair beside the girl, but then inched it back, eyes darting to him. "Hey. I did that bit where I helped save the world. An' got Slayer back to you. Can I get some sort of... clean slate deal?"

Willow looked at him from the corner of her eye. He'd been part of some of the most terrifying moments she'd ever had.

_So has Buffy. But, y'know, in a good way. _

"No."

Buffy's face fell, as his hardened. _Well. We tried. I guess I'll deal. I'm alive. I'm home! That's a big jump from yesterday._

Willow took a deep breath and managed to look Spike in his dangerous eyes for just a moment. "You can have a smudgy slate that I won't look at too hard. R-right now." Willow stammered and fled back into the kitchen.

"Mighty nice of-" She was gone. "You." He shrugged. "Maybe it won't be as bad as we think." Spike smiled and lied.

"Don't count on it." Buffy whispered.

"Was afraid you'd say that." The lighter was fast making a reappearance.

"Don't be. Think about us." The tired girl smiled and sat up straighter. "I'm the Slayer. I've got this."

* * *

"I've got the wrong address on that parcel Headquarters sent me." Collins said the vague-sounding distress code clearly into the phone. What a mockery this all was! Had to be. There was feasting and laughter one room over, with a disgraced Watcher, a run away Slayer, and one of the most notorious vampires in the world - while he sweated, still hobbled and with an unfriendly grip on one arm, waiting for the voice of reason to come through on the phone.

"Mr. Collins to Mr. Fallows, right away, Sir." The voice answered.

"Fallows? Not- not Travers?" Collins faltered.

"Mr. Fallows is temporarily in charge of this Council, Sir." The voice became puzzled. "Unless you really do need to speak to the mail room?"

"No!" Collins groaned and went to sink back into a chair. The only flaw being that when you're bound at the ankles and knees you just sort of fall on your arse.

"Are you there?"

Wesley retrieved the phone. "Give him a moment- he's taking a seat."

"Shall I connect him to Mr. Fallows? He's still here. In fact- everyone's still here." It was past six in the evening, but they were still all there, reading, re-reading, sifting, and trying to make something definite stick, something more than petty infractions and indiscretion.

"I imagine they are." Wesley murmured, then collected himself. "Yes, please. We have Collins. Tell him that, if there's any delay."

There wasn't. In the space of three seconds an urgent but controlled voice identified itself. "This is Fallows, is this Collins?"

"This is Collins. Sir, I don't understand what's happened. I wasn't gone for more than a week-"

"But what a week it was, Collins. I understand you requested Mr. Travers?"

"I did..." Collins felt the world floating away from him. How was he suddenly on trial? How was he bound at the hands of the woman he'd defended through his small sacrifices? How was a vampire a guest and he the one with a noose waiting for his neck? Why were his fellows acting like this?

"Do you object to speaking him on speaker phone?"

"Ah- yes."

"Why is that?"

"I have information only to be relayed to Travers." _And what a farce this is. Obviously they'll know whatever I know and soon. The gods of protocol are hurling thunderbolts at us all..._ "I don't suppose it matters now. I was unsuccessful."

"Unsuccessful at what?"

"My mission, Sir."

"Which was?"

_And they'll ask her! She's alive, she's one bloody room over. They'll ask her, so why am I bothering with this charade?_ "Killing the Slayer, Sir. She's switched sides, she's in league with a vampire. William the Bloody. Also called Spike."

"That is not true!" Wesley cried angrily. "I-"

"My Wyndham-Pryce! Your evidence was already submitted and you have not been brought in to speak on this date! Say nothing. The Council clerk will let Mr. Collins hear the evidence. And please note, Mr. Collins, that this was _after_ Ms. Summers fled, because of a prior warning she had been given. We can read you anecdotal evidence but I think this might be more convincing." A pause. A shuffle. "The first recording, please."

Collins, Martin, and Quinn all sat raptly, ears straining. As they had been on out on assignment, taking the place of MacAndrews and Gervais, this was their first time hearing the damning tapes as well. Wesley pushed the speaker button on their end of the line, and shoed no emotion. He'd already heard this before.

_"Don't be a fool! It's not as if I've asked you to battle her hand to hand, simply finish the job."_

Wesley's voice, wounded sounding,_ "I mean, there is no body." _

A pause. Tape spools wound and creaked.

_"You said she died."_

_ "She has. She chased the demon into the building right before it blew up. Waves of fire, an explosion- the building began to fall down, there were-"_

_ "Spare me the poetry, Wyndham-Pryce. So, she's trapped inside?"_

_ "I- I hope not. The police said no one could possibly survive."_

_ "Have they checked the wreckage? Slayers are like roaches- so difficult to kill by ordinary means."_

"What? Why did he-" Martin made a flabbergasted sound.

"Silence, please! Rewind, Clerk."

_ "The heat was too intense, and the building too unsound. It's most likely rubble now, but I haven't been back to check."_

_ "Then go back and check. She must be alive."_

_ "Why do you say that, Sir?" _

Why can't he hear the trap in that voice? That caution, that leading? Collins shook his head in a horrified realization. He must be mad not to have noticed... He must be mad. Full stop.

_ "No one's been called to replace her! I've been up all night, called every Watcher in the world, and none of the girls we have under observation have been called!"_

_ "Doesn't it often take a few days to be sure? Maybe she hasn't come into full realization of her abilities, looking normal to the outsider." _

Another pause. Clicking of spools._"Hmm. Possibly." _

_ "It could be a girl who hasn't been recognized as having the potential to be called yet. It is sometimes."_

_ "Highly unlikely. We're much better about surveillance than we used to be."_

_ "Still, it did happen. In Stockholm in- was it 1897? And what about that girl, what was her name, the one who was only active for a month before she fell into a den of-"_

_ "Yes, yes I suppose it's possible!" _

Quinn winced. Shouting. Mr. Travers seldom shouted. A bad sign. Losing his temper - losing his grip. Still, he could just be frustrated that a new Slayer hadn't been called, it was puzzling, it was wrong.

"_Very well. We'll have to utilize all our inactive agents to locate an unidentified potential if I don't see a Call in the next day. Such a waste of manpower! But you, Wesley..." _

He called him by his first name. Collins, Martin, and Quinn exchanged a shocked, faintly hurt glance.

_ "You go, and you find that body. If she's not dead, make it so."_

"Please stop the tape." The recording clicked off. "Mr. Collins? Would you feel comfortable speaking to Mr. Travers on speaker now?"

_He told her Watcher to kill her. And he obviously didn't know she'd run off or was in league with a vampire then, he thought she was helpless- trapped in a building, trapped in a building so badly damaged they'd said no one could survive inside it. _

_ Lies! All lies he told me! What he said to me, didn't match what_ they_ said to me. But it matches bloody well what he told Pryce to do. A Watcher, turning on his Slayer... _

_ Lies. I killed Spears. For a lie, ten to one. Nothing but lies. _

Seconds ticked by. Travers' face became more strained. Fallows cleared his throat. The board room was still with tension.

"Collins?" Martin gently shook his elbow.

"He told me she'd run off with a vampire. And that she'd gone evil. That she was a threat to be removed. And I am the best man in Threat Removal." Collins' voice seemed to come from his stomach up, as if it were something foul he was trying to expel. A calm voice only slightly shaking, but the shaking was like an earthquake tremor of rage.

"That's true." Fallows said quietly.

"But he asked her Watcher to finish her. To finish her when she was supposedly dying. That. _Is not._ What we do." He spoke in three snorting breaths, barely able to control his anger. "We are meant to help. Protect them in the small ways, like the books and spells and ancient lore, or in removing other threats, human threats to their lives or their secrets!"

"Steady on, old man." Quinn looked alarmed. Giles poked his head around from the hallway with a worried frown.

"You told her Watcher to take her life when you thought she was weak and helpless!"

"She wasn't though." Martin shook his head.

"He didn't know that! He wanted her dead, not because she was evil. Not because of- Because... why? Why did you do this?" He looked at his hands. For the first time, he could see the blood on them. "Why did you ask me to hurt an _innocent_? Someone good?"

"I think we should move to the kitchen." Giles murmured and began ushering the group at the table farther out of earshot. _They don't need to hear the explanation. They know it. _

Travers said nothing at first. "Testing the loyalty of this Council. Sometimes one down in the field cannot see the same view as those siting in command."

"Loyalty? In the field! What about Spears?" Collins asked desperately. "Was he really insane, a danger to the Council, or did you just want him dead, too? Is it a test of loyalty to see who we'd kill for you? Even each other?"

The room erupted.

"We have enough! Quentin Travers, you are held for another three days, until the completion of Mr. Collins' written and sworn testimony." What happened after that was much less pleasant and wouldn't be shouted out in the middle of a board room. "Collins- you are to be brought to London Headquarters to -"

"Oh, don't even tell me." Collins groaned, too sick of these rules, these rules made of shadows and never asking, just obeying. "I'll come and I'll talk and you can do what you like with me." He shoved the phone away.

_Later I'll be mad. Later I'll be worried about what they do to me, what the penalty is for obeying the orders of a madman. A traitor. Oh bloody hell. I'm a traitor. He made me a traitor._ "One thing."

"Quiet! Quiet in this room, or everyone but the board leaves!" Fallows bellowed. The silence descended once more. "Yes, Collins, one thing?"

"I want it in the records. That I did my job. I removed threats, or I did my best to. It's not my fault if information was withheld - or falsified- about what constituted those threats."

"That will be discussed when you arrive, Mr. Collins." Fallows said firmly, then relented. Collins was an unemotional chap, and his tones were positively livid. "But it shall be entered into the records- preliminarily, of course."

* * *

"When are the other guys supposed to get here?" Buffy and the others hovered, both trying to hear, and trying not to. They wanted the whole horrible mess to be done with, but they wanted the knowledge that something conclusive was _finally_ happening even more.

"Shortly. If not already, I should imag-"

"They've arrived." Martin slid from the silent Collins' side to answer the door. "If I may, Madam?"

"Now you care about manners in my house?" Joyce asked coldly. "Yes, go ahead. Just get him out of here before I-" She soothed herself with a shaking sigh. "Just get him out of here."

"Will do, Madam." Martin opened the door, and MacAndrews and Gervais came in, eyes darting wildly. "She's here, safe. And so is he."

"And so is _that_." Gervais saw Spike step into the foyer, still mainly in the shadows.

"_That_ is Spike. Who helped keep me safe when no one else in your little boys' club noticed everything was fishy." Buffy said sternly.

"Ms. Summers!" MacAndrews looked genuinely pleased. "You're back, and you're well!"

"Excuse me, no one?" Giles gave her a look of mock injury.

"When none of _you_ guys noticed anything was wrong." Buffy amended, pointing at the quintet of men in the living room, four standing, one sitting and miserable looking.

"That's better." Wesley sniffed in, wounded pride healing a tad.

"You're not defending this murdering demon?" MacAndrews looked very worried at the thought. _Perhaps she's not as well as she looks._

"Don't see why she shouldn't," Spike leaned against her with a smirk, but blackness in his eyes, "I defended her plenty from you lot lately."

"He did." Collins' hollow voice seemed to erase the mounting tension forming between the two camps.

Looks were exchanged. "He is with the Slayer, and if she wanted to kill him, she would." Wesley said quietly.

"Oh believe me, I wanted to." Buffy gave Spike an almost playful look under a grim smile. "Amazing as it is, the longer you put up with him- the less killable he gets."

"Mutual." Spike winked.

There was a stiffness in the quartet of standing Watchers, all of whom had come prepared for a battle with Collins, only to find that he was in some sort of silent shut down mode. Now they faced a notorious vampire, known for his evil towards Slayers in particular, and they were being told to stand down.

"We haven't asked for any orders from the Council regarding him." Martin finally spoke for all of them.

"No, you didn't, and they didn't issue any except to get that man to headquarters." Giles reminded them. _Which you'd better do swiftly. Cooperative or not, vital as he is, he almost killed her, and I can't stand to look at him for much longer._

"A jet's being hired. They have to find one suitable for our needs, one with the right gate clearances to depart quickly. They said it would be arranged in a few hours. Less now."

"Surely you have someplace suitable you can go?" Giles insisted, sparing a second to look at Joyce, who was barely holding herself in check, same as he was.

"Aside from my living room." Buffy crossed her arms menacingly.

"You can use my flat." Wesley volunteered.

Another pause. "They _will_ ask questions about him, you know." Quinn addressed Buffy as if Spike weren't there. "It isn't natural."

"Neither is drugging women and locking them in the house with vampires, then giving them a grade for how little they _die_." Put like that, the Watchers had the grace to look abashed. "Let them ask questions. I have answers."

That's my girl." Spike beamed and bounced on the balls of his feet, looking like he could crow.

"Give us a minute to call and relay our new location. We don't want any slip ups, not this late in the game." Gervais said stiffly, and turned from them.

"I think we could all use a minute." Joyce took Buffy's arm and tugged her pointedly from the room. As if she were the moon and they were the waves, the others trailed slowly after her.

"Buffy, this has gone far - Spike, would you mind waiting outside?"

"Bit sunny out there." Spike felt something in his chest suddenly crunch. She was doing better than he'd imagined. All of them were doing their best good little pals act. But Slayer's mum was a fierce little thing, like her daughter. And the look in her eye... it stilled his already dead heart, that had been coming back to life again.

"You're right. And you can hear what I have to say. It concerns you." Joyce forced a smile to her face. "Thank you." The group gave her a surprised look, and her smile left, but the expression of sincere gratitude remained. "Thank you. For bringing her home. I know- I know you were promised something to keep her safe, and you gave it up to save Buffy. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that."

"You don't have to." Spike didn't smile, didn't respond to the kind words. He knew the next part. The push.

"I just wanted to let you know before you left."

"Thought I might stick around." Spike replied in an expressionless voice, hard featured, shuttered eyes. Buffy looked at him furtively.

_Oh man. I'm the one who who holds in everything, he's the one who shows everything. When he gets closed over... it hurts so bad they don't even make an expression for it. _"Mom, I don't think we need to have this-"

Joyce rounded on Giles, speaking over Buffy. "He's evil. He's acting good now, but that doesn't last! I've seen it before, and I've seen what happens to people when they change back! You involve vampires and then they don't know when to leave!" She hissed.

"No. They don't." Buffy looked angrily at her mother, and widened that look to her friends and Watcher. "They leave when you need them most. To worry about themselves when you need someone to watch your back."

"Honey, Angel wasn't a good person to have helping you anyway. You saw what he could become."

"This isn't Angel!"

"Bloody right!" Spike looked mortified.

"Isn't this worse?" Joyce cried.

"I'm the Slayer! I say who I have on my team!" _But this isn't just about defenses and putting people on the good guy or bad guy team! This is about love. How can she not see that? I don't go around kissing everyone who lends me a hand._

"You're also an eighteen year old girl! You can't keep giving your heart to these pretty monsters and then letting them tear you apart!"

_Oh. So she does get that part._ "Mom, I'm not going to get torn apart, I just-"

"I'm seeing the point there." Xander ventured.

"Xander!" Willow smacked his elbow.

"All of you calm down. Spike has had just as trying journey as Buffy and no one expects him to suddenly leave."

"I am in the room, y'know!" Spike gave an aggravated cry.

"Everyone just _shut up!_" Buffy stamped her foot, and dishes rattled in the dining room. Frustration and anger, and a little worrying voice that wondered if she was making a mistake, all vied for position. Then a sudden unexpected rush of quiet, confident strength took place in the lead. "I love all of you. So much. And every day apart killed me, and when I started to die- for real... all the fears that were chasing me... circling around me... making me crazy? All of them were about hurting you, letting you down."

"Sweetie, no." Joyce shook her head. "That's not what I'm trying to say."

"Buffy, no way do you ever do that." Willow reached for her hand.

"Then don't make me feel that way now." Buffy ignored the outstretched hand, kept her fingers curled into her palms, every ounce of willpower needed so she wouldn't just avoid this, or give in, go back to the far less morally worrying life of good girl searching for good boy.

"It's not a question of letting us down." Xander didn't look at Spike. "More like wondering if you're insane. Oo, bad choice of words there..." He winced and gave Buffy an apologetic look.

"I'll deck you in a minute." Spike snarled.

"Perhaps is we could discuss this later?" Giles was uncomfortably aware that they would soon be under scrutiny from the next room.

"No! Not later, not insane, and not letting anyone down! I don't always do what you want, but I'll do what I think is right, and I'll try my best and- and-"

"And you'll finish the job. You'll never be beaten." Spike prompted quietly.

"That! I'll do my job and I'll win! I'll be your daughter, and your friend, and your student, and the Slayer! And I'll be..." _Girlfriend sounds so not-major enough._ "I'll be his."

"Mine." Spike mouthed soundlessly, to himself, staring at her in awe. That was a popular look. All of them had gobsmacked looks on their faces, faces that were slowly fading to looks of questioning acceptance. Or resignation. "An' I'll be hers." He stepped up to the plate. "Do my best to make sure she stays all those things, Slayer, best mate, your good little pupil-" he tried to laugh off the heaviness he felt. These were some sort of effed up vows they were making, promises that should be made to each other, and here they were being made to the lot of them.

_Oh well. Gotta say, like the family she comes with better than the one Dru came with. _Visions of Angelus and Darla and a weeping, scattered raven haired girl stuck in his mind and he blinked. "I'm givin' up a lot for her. A _lot_. But I think she's worth the trade."

"Awww." Willow looked touched. Giles stared at the pair curiously, contemplating, and Xander rubbed his temples with the familiar "I will never understand her" look on his face.

Only Joyce seemed unmoved from her original position. "A trade? You'll stop killing people and being a demon and being evil? For her?"

"Well... the killin' part, I guess. You know, 'cept in a pinch where it's someone gonna hurt my Slayer, 'cause then-"

"Your Slayer! _My _daughter! Buffy, think about what_ you're_ trading."

_Loneliness. Never fitting in. Always feeling like a weirdo in my own body. Trying to be good all the time, and feeling like a failure when I can't. Failing. Helplessness. Having an empty space in my heart... He can take all of that from me, just by giving me himself._ "I have thought, Mom. I like what I'm getting."

"A normal life! Walking outside in the daylight! Marriage! Children! Grandchildren!" Joyce clutched the sides of her slightly frazzled hair. "You're a teenager, you think in the now. All you see is how much you want him. You never think about something else you might want a little later, like a family!"

A derisive snort emerged under Joyce's heated cries. She continued her berating, only dimly aware of the men in the next room being able to hear her.

But Spike and Buffy could overhear every word they said, Spike more so as he wasn't staring into the desperate eyes of his mother.

The phone call and any subsequent discussion must've been finished, for the Watchers were idling in the doorways, looking lost and yet they couldn't leave.

Quinn made the noise. Something in an undertone, then louder. He knew it was loud enough to hear, he'd just stopped caring. "Ha. She's a slayer." He inclined his head to Martin. "What's she going on about? Not like she'll live long enough to bear children, let alone see a 'family'."

Joyce's words tumbled to a halt as she caught the last sentence.

"See here!" Wesley drew himself up angrily.

Spike didn't ask him to see. He preferred when they weren't looking. A black blur, a chorus of gasps, and Quinn was lying on the ground, clutching a fast bleeding lip and a bloody white incisor. "You keep that mouth shut before it does you anymore damage!" Spike snarled, shaking his hand out. "She's gonna outlive all of you! All of you!" He spat at the assembled men, now drawing weapons. "You know, this is what you've been doin' wrong," he scoffed at them, "you don't use men in suits to help girls kill vamps, you use _vamps_ to kill vamps!"

"Spike." Buffy came up and laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"Not that a Slayer needs help or-" He gave her a look over his shoulder. "Gimme one more sec, Luv?"

"Go for it." Buffy rolled her eyes, but secretly liked having someone defending her.

"She's gonna outlive all of you!" He leaned forward threateningly- and then slid back into an almost nonchalant stance, something still coiled in him, but chained for now. "By how much... that's your choice."

Silence filled the space after his not so subtle threat, until Buffy proclaimed, looking at her mother first, then the Watchers, and her friends last. "He stays. I'm the Slayer. What I say about my life, little or long as it is- goes. _He stays_." She looked pointedly at the Watchers, slowly replacing their weapons. Except for one.

Joyce pushed past her child. Her daughter. _There is a difference between those terms, isn't there? _An aching difference, but that ache was better than being without her. Her life had almost been taken. Over. And this man fought to help her keep it. Passionately wanted it to continue.

_We have something in common. _

Martin's fingers froze around the trigger on his small crossbow, as a delicate, artistic hand crushed his wrist back inside his jacket pocket. "Don't you dare pull that thing out in my house." Joyce Summers whispered threateningly.

"No, ma'am."

"In fact, you'd better leave. Everyone who isn't welcome here better leave." Joyce withdrew her hand, still staring at the man. "Buffy? Go make some cocoa. See if we have any little marshmallows."

"What?" Buffy looked utterly confused. "Does that mean something?"

Spike shoved her along. "It means I'm on the good side of welcome, now get in the kitchen."

* * *

With the two stars of the little drama temporarily out of the room, things relaxed and life seemed to return to normal speed. "We're cleared to leave." Wesley nodded. "We'll go back to my flat."

"I'll go with you."

"We need the car. It's the only one big enough to take five of us."

"I'm not going to run. I don't need an armed escort. " Collins, a silent spectator for this tableau, finally spoke. "Certainly not four of you." _As if I couldn't kill all four of you weak, soft bookish lads in moments. If you were a danger. Although I suppose that code of killing only to protect doesn't matter anymore. I've stained my hands with innocent blood now._ "I won't be running." Collins repeated in an exhausted voice.

"It doesn't matter, old man. I'm afraid Mr. Fallows insists that you do need an escort, and he believes that- well." Gervais cleared his throat, "Safety in numbers, don't you know."

"Ah yes. Get the car ready then." Collins replied in a flat voice.

"Don't sweat it. I'll get Buffy's stuff out of the car and then it's all yours." Xander shrugged angrily and huffed away, glad to leave the room.

* * *

He banged past them in the kitchen, not looking at the couple standing by the stove, hands on each other's faces and necks as if they'd been about to kiss or just finished. "Don't mind me." Xander said sarcastically, and slammed into the garage.

"Oh no..." Buffy bit her lip.

"Can I punch him, too?" Spike asked hopefully.

"No." Buffy patted his arm.

"I'm still evil! I'm not goin' good, y'know." He huffed after her.

"Be good for a minute- and I'll be bad later. For longer." Buffy smiled back at him.

Well, that caused a reaction. "How bad are we talkin'?" Spike licked his white lips as they curved in desire.

"Shut up, Spike." She swung her hair and strode off, ignoring the tingling that promise caused.

He smiled happily as he watched her glide away._ Mm. Very._

* * *

"Xander, don't leave." _Please don't leave. If you leave it means I'm wrong about everything. About not letting you down. About being myself. I have to be who I am, and you're part of that. _Buffy stood in the garage doorway, watching him root around inside the black sedan.

"Not leaving. The boys from MI- 5 are leaving, and I said I'd get your stuff. They need this car since it's the only one big enough to comfortably let you enjoy a luxurious ride while still pointing a gun at the guy in the backseat." He gave her a bitter smile and moved a duffle bag out of the way.

"You hate this." Buffy was behind him, silent and swift, making him stand up quickly. With a yelp as his scalp met the edge of the trunk, Xander turned to face her. "Yeah. I think I do. Don't get me wrong, I'm actually feeling some warm fuzzies for him because I know he saved your life. I _heard_ him saving it. I know that wasn't an Oscar-winning performance, it was actually real. But, Buff- he wanted to kill you last year._ Kill._ Now this year, you're- what's the word? Dating?"

_No one understands. Which is why I like having Spike around. He is actually getting really good at understanding the non-understandable_. "Yeah." Buffy managed to laugh. "Sounds like you and Cordelia junior and senior year."

"She's not evil. Not all the time. She's- she's got a heart under there!" Xander defended his ex.

"He's got a heart too. It didn't stop working... it just stopped beating." Buffy tried to explain.

_I heard him calling her back. Pulling her out of death's arms. I did the same thing once. I can tell when it's B.S. This isn't. Still. _ "I really, _really_ don't like this."

"Downgraded from hate. It's a start." Buffy shrugged.

"Buffy..."

"You know what? I really, really don't like being the slayer sometimes- but I am. And I can't run away from that, can't hide from it. Tried both." His hazel eyes widened a fraction as he listened to her, looked at her. "It's something I can't choose, but I know I have to be pretty damn grateful about what things I _can_ choose. People in my life. I'm choosing him, Xander." Buffy said seriously. "I choose you too, and I'm not changing my mind. I'm not backing down-" she wallowed, "even if I'm scared to death."

He grabbed her hands and shook them slightly. "If he scares you, you shouldn't-"

"Not him." Buffy squeezed the hands holding hers. "You. Wills. Mom and Giles. I'm scared of you hating me. But I _know_ what I'm supposed to do. I just know." She touched the space above her heart. "In here."

He didn't seem to particularly care for that poignant statement of self-awareness. The teen boy was stuck on the horrifying words right before it. _Buffy's scared of me? She's my best friend! She's my hero. She's the anti-bogeyman, and come on, she's gotta know that I'd die for her! Knew I should have kept a list of times I almost did. But friends don't need to do that! It's basic friend mechanics. Friend equals of the good. Scared equals of the bad and shitty._ "Scared? Of _me_?"

How do you sum of the nightmare world you lived in, where everyone you loved turned on you, or you'd turned everyone from innocent bystander to innocent victim?

Simply, because talking about it hurt too much. _And because my best friends speak fluent Buffy-ese. _ "Mhm. Scared. That you won't- you know. Like me anymore." She finished in a small whisper. _Love me anymore. But love is even scarier to think about losing._

Xander shook his head. "Here all this time I thought _I_ was the stupid one. I will never, ever _not_ like you." He blinked, considered, and shook his head again. "Whoa. I need Wills to check my grammar on that, but I will never, ever not- wait two negatives- makes a positive... or is that when you're multiplying..." Xander trailed off for a moment of mumbling and counting on his fingers while Buffy chewed her lips to keep from laughing. Or crying. "Screw it. I will_ always_ like you."

"Xan!" Buffy breathed out in relief, but he wasn't done speaking.

"I will probably always hate his undead guts though." The young man swallowed and looked at her nervously. "Is that a deal breaker?"

Buffy didn't even have to consider, just had to throw out one condition. "Promise not to stake him?"

"If he promises not to bite. If he bites- boom. I'm breaking out the holy water hand grenades." Xander chuckled.

"I think we can work with that." _I think we can work_. She hugged him impulsively, hard, making his bones creak and his voice wheeze out,

"O-kay, found another reason for Spike to stick around. You can give _him_ the boa constrictor hugs."

"Sorry!" She released him and helped him straighten up as he rubbed his bruised ribs.

"But don't get all touchy-feely with him when I'm around. Save the hugging- and stuff- for when I'm not in the room." Buffy blushed slightly and nodded. "Friends?"

"Forever."

* * *

_Day Twenty Eight..._

"Willow? Hey, come on in." Oz was unloading his van, carrying his amp into his parents' garage. "The Bronze was dead tonight. Set finished before midnight. But no vampires."

Willow let out a frantic, high-pitched giggle and helped him grab the van's sliding door. "Yeah. Yeah, that's good."

"You okay?" Oz put down his case quickly and looked at his girlfriend. She had barely cracked a smile in a month, and now she was giggling. Giggling like an insane person. Probably not a good sign.

"Yeah! I'm fine! I'm really great. Really!" _I'm going to puke. He's going to break up with me. I lied to him once, and now I lied to him again and he's going to say he can't trust me and why didn't I think of this before I agreed not to tell him? I guess it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because between Buffy dying and maybe Oz dying if they found out he knew- I'd pick a break up any day._

"You sure?" Oz was not given to questioning actions and feelings of people. Very anti-flow. A person says fine, you say, "cool".

"No." Willow bit her lip and her eyes suddenly overflowed.

"What happened?" But he knew. _Buffy's gone._ Since graduation, Willow was like a shadow, always slipping away, silent, and not in the "I'm thinking with my ridiculously amazing brain" way. "Did they...?" _But what's worse, man? She's _dead.

"Buffy's alive."

The stoic teen showed one of his rare bursts of emotion. "What!?"

"She- she - okay, first there was the thing with Angel, and she got mad, and then she-"

"Willow, stop, you're not making any sense!" _She snapped. Should I call her parents or Giles? Definitely Giles._

"I know!" Willow groaned.

"Willow, I know life isn't the same without her. Life doesn't feel like life. But-"

She interrupted, blurting,"The guy who fired Giles? He tried to kill Buffy."

The reddish brown eyebrows blended in with his hairline. "Wow. Harsh."

"That's what I said. He's insane! When Wesley told him Buffy wasn't going to obey orders anymore, because he wouldn't help Angel when Faith shot him, then the guy- Travers- he was like 'She's disobedient. I'm crazy. Let's kill her'. Then Wesley was all 'Never!' , but he didn't tell Travers that, he told Giles. He was waiting until Buffy stopped the Ascension, but then he was going to send Spike after her. You know Spike- the vampire who- right, never mind, you know him." Willow took a half breath and kept speaking, speeding up, not quite meeting his eyes. "So they figured the only way to put him off the trail was to act like she was already dead, and then by the time he figured she was still alive she would be far enough away to-"

Oz's frown had deepened until Willow, even lost in her frantic, confused babble, her relief at finally being able to tell her secret, and her fear at what the revelation would lead to, was forced to notice it. She guiltily met his eyes, her voice abruptly dying, sticking in her throat.

"Giles _knew_?" Oz's voice was stunned, but had an edge, an angry edge. Willow nodded. "_You _knew?" An even smaller nod. "You knew she was _alive_? Since when?"

"All the time." Willow whispered.

The anger was on the surface. A little bit of the wolf, but tempered by the oh-so-placid demeanor. "Why? Why didn't you tell me? You knew? Willow- we had a memorial service! I -I -Buffy's my friend too! I mean, I thought she was. Dude..." Oz sat on the bumper of the van suddenly. "_Dude._ Heavy..."

"Oz, listen-" Willow came to sit beside him, but he didn't look at her. "Please? Look at me?" He glared briefly from the corner of one eye. "I wanted to tell you. I swear I did."

"So why didn't you?"

"Because they've been snooping around, all month. Agents. Watchers. They tapped Giles' phone and searched his house... They kept coming to see Joyce. We think they looked at all our phone records, and we didn't know-" Willow's strained voice made an effortful heave- "what they'd do if they ever found out it wasn't real. Giles said we could either have real mourning for a fake death, or a real death and we wouldn't have to fake anything."

Oz's pale skin blanched further. "Did you think you couldn't trust me?" He asked quietly.

"I knew I could trust you with my life. Hers too." She looked at her hands. "I-I just didn't want to gamble with _yours._ Everyone who knew wasn't just putting her in danger if they slipped up, b-but they were in danger too." His eyes slid to hers and locked. "Seriously. No one hurt us, but I think it's 'cause they believed us. If they hadn't, if they thought we were hiding Buffy... I don't know what they would have done." Willow thought of the scowling, bound figure she'd kept clear of. Humans who kill other humans, and feel nothing. _What's _that _evil about? "_They can be pretty scary."

Oz processed emotions either slowly or quickly, either extreme, but was always fairly quiet about it. "I could have helped you. I could have protected you. I know that's kind of old fashioned, maybe retro manly or something, but- I love you. I would have helped."

"I liked it." Willow gave him a watery smile. "You save me all the time. Buffy, too, you totally help. I guess for once, I wanted to do some saving. At least some proactive-anti-endangering. 'Cause I do too. Love you. And want to save you from all the scary guys."

He marveled a little, even under the anger and the confusion. "You're the good witch, huh?" He cracked a fractured smile.

"With the sparkly wings." Willow returned it. "I knew m-maybe you wouldn't trust me anymore. Or you'd be mad and n-not want to be around me for a long time." _Or ever again._ "We still thought it was the safest thing. And tomorrow, or soon, people will find out that she's back and she's alive. I just came over to tell you first. I can leave now." Willow rose on shaking knees.

Oz let her. Let her take a few steps, too, before he couldn't stand it anymore, watching her walk away, breaking heart trailing after her like a shadow.

"Next time- I'm one of the risk-takers. If you do it, I do it."

Willow spun, and fell into his arms as he was rising. "I promise!"

He pulled her back, into the van, over tangled cords, old gig flyers, and mike stands. "We have to go see Buffy."

"Uh-huh!"

"But... not now." Hands pulled scarlet strands out of the way of her tear streaked face and he gave her a kiss between muffled words. "Buffy's probably asleep, right?"

"Right." Willow said between kisses. Which was a lie, and she knew it. _No more lying. _"Well no, probably not yet. She's probably trying to work out a couple things."

"Hm?" He paused in mid- tug at her sweater.

"Let's do this first, then go see her. You can see for yourself."

"Is it something bad?" He paused, eyes fluttering back open, suddenly alert.

_ Spike. Very bad. But saved her life. And punched that mouthy Watcher dude who said she was gonna die._ "Kinda. But nothing she can't handle."

* * *

"Think we can handle a night apart?" He asked it playfully, sarcastically, as if it wouldn't matter a bit.

"Not really." Buffy admitted.

"I was hopin' you'd say that." Spike wound his arm across her back. "Your mum isn't gonna like me hangin' about." '_Specially not doin' what I want to do to you._

"We have a guest room. More like a big dusty boxes room, but-" She shrugged.

"I don't think your mum'd sleep a wink if I were in the house over night. 'Sides, this is my daylight. I gotta get somethin' to eat, an' you oughta lay low until that bastard's safely over the briney."

"Over the what now?"

"Ocean. 'Til he's over the ocean! Dammit, we're gonna need a whole new sorta dictionary for you, Bubble Brain."

"Yeah, the _Old British Words to Normal People Words_ version." She snapped back. Then smiled. "Hm. I kinda miss watching the Spanish channel with you." Buffy cuddled up to his side as they walked through the yard, walking in the wee hours, in the shadows, keeping her cover maintained until they got some sort of all clear, him silently refusing to abandon his post until the danger passed, and her declaring loudly his place was with her even when it had. Danger never passed for good, it merely made circuits, leaving them with happy moments of peace.

_Happy. And pretty peaceful._ "I love you." Buffy reminded him.

"I love you. Only thing I might love more is hearin' you tell me." He preened and confessed._ What she does to me... Who's the devilish one now?_

"I don't want you to leave tonight. Unless you're really hungry?" Giles had gone out and brought back bags of blood from the butcher, Joyce had outdone herself with a banquet of donated casseroles and roasts.

"Just peckish." He inhaled her scent, and some other hunger manifested. "You gotta be exhausted though."

"You haven't slept much either."

"Don't need to. Much."

"Me, either."

"You'll wear yourself out."

"You'll wear me out faster."

"Slayer!" He chuckled.

"Spike..."

He moved her body to his, turning her hips and half picking her up, letting her feel the outline of his bulge.

She pressed her breasts into his chest. A few weeks ago, she'd never have done this at all, with anyone. Too dangerous to tempt her only other lover, too shy and uncertain to be provocative with the human boys she'd liked, aside from an occasional dance.

"Ever done it outside? Under the stars?" He growled and nipped at her throat.

"Outside yes, under stars, not so much. It was starting to get light out yesterday, remember?" She nudged her knee along the growing rise between his hips.

_Oh yes, unforgettable._ "Mmm, Kitten, you don't know what you're missing."

"No, but I bet I won't be missing it for very -"

"Eh-hem!" Giles' strident cough echoed from the back porch.

"Oooh, busted." Buffy hissed regretfully and slid down the vampire, who hastily swung his coat closed.

"The neighbors are bound to be wondering who has been wearing down the grass for the past several hours. I think you'd best come inside." The Watcher's precise tones meant it wasn't really a suggestion.

"Coming..." Buffy dragged herself along moodily. "But Spike's going to sleep here, right?"

"I suppose. If he likes. I'm also planning to stay until I hear Collins is safely at Headquarters." Giles held the door for them as they came into the house.

"So you can make sure I don't suddenly snack on anyone, more likely." Spike grunted.

Giles regarded him, then her. A strange sort of- almost a kinship, he thought, like a symbiotic strand- seemed to exist between them. Hunter and Hunted locked in an unending truce, now partners at being both predators and prey. Her defense of him, his protectiveness of her. The bickering. Lord, the longest evening of his life, with the constant, unending snarking- all of it accurate and quite sharp, and none of it taken with any offense.

_They do seem to show some love for one another. Not the painful, obsessive love he showed for Drusilla, or the tragic, star-crossed love she had for Angel. Just something.. strangely undefinable. _ "I don't believe you'd do that." Giles murmured, removing his glasses from the heavily seamed and bagged eyes. "As for you," he addressed Buffy, "I'm so happy to have you back, you can get away with almost anything for a few days."

"I almost die, and I only get a few days off for good behavior?" Buffy pouted up at him and let herself fall against his chest, hugging him tight.

"Let's say a long weekend." Giles kissed her freshly washed and conditioned hair. "Spike, you can take the sofa. I'm in the guest room. And Buffy-" Giles headed upstairs, "the recent stress of the past few weeks has trained me to spring to alert at even the _slightest _sound." He smiled paternally at her before begin to trudge wearily up once more. "Have a good night's sleep, you two."

"Night, Giles!" Buffy waved and waited until he was gone before she turned to Spike with a pout. "I guess that means we wait."

Spike pulled her back from dining room, down through the kitchen, looking around as he went. "No..." He flung open the basement door noislessly, with a naughty grin, "I guess that means we're dead quiet."

With a hot rush in her stomach, she let him lead her down.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	31. Chapter 31

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: One chapter to go, and then back to Unknown. And... I may do an epilogue. The jury is still out on that. This is a big loose end that needed tying up, so I hope you'll enjoy it. Not Spuffy-centric, but they have their turn next._

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, micmoc, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, ValidescopeWest, Rachel, Alottalove, Cavementftw, Maire Ailbhe, Illusera, mike13z50, Loverswalk89, Suzanne, KittenofDoomage, PeaceHeather, CailinRua, Neinka, cosmiclove, N172Shay, Kathryn Merlin, kse93, and Magnipotence._

_Thank you to the faithful ones who are hanging in there until the very end!_

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XXXI**

Wesley settled down around mid-morning, once the call came through. It came to him, as the "Active Watcher" on record. For the time being. Utterly laughable.

_I could save her life and she'd thank me and mean it. I could be her Watcher for another year, another five, and Giles would always be the first one she ran to, her _real _Watcher, her true one._

So he made his call in turn.

"Hello?"

"Ah. Yes, Joyce, good morning."

"Oh, hello Wesley." The cheeriness turned to instant panic. "Is something wrong?"

"No, everything appears to be right, actually." Wesley forced his cheerful tone to hold. "I just spoke to someone at the Council. It's quite late there, but Collins has arrived, and is safely in quarters and will start giving evidence immediately. Apparently we're not the only ones who've been staying up around the clock."

Joyce sighed thankfully and ignored his feeble humor. "I'll get Rupert for you."

* * *

So they exchanged information. Buffy and Spike were resting, apparently feeling a sudden exhaustion, all their battles catching up with them was what they supposed.

"We'll have to dispose of that car." Giles groaned as he moved painfully, stiff from a month's worth of tension in his muscles.

"Oh dear, how do we do that?" Some more reserved part of Wesley's nature recoiled from something so- so _thuggish_ sounding, as something newly awakened in him thrilled at the idea. Covering the evidence, protecting his charge...anything to kill the drear of waiting and wondering what would happen next, what would be the final outcome once they'd compared their story with Collins'.

"Don't worry, I'll do it." Giles muttered crossly._ I don't want it botched._ "Nothing I haven't done before." The mumbling continued as he dropped the phone into the cradle, "Just give me until well after midnight at least. We don't need an audience."

* * *

It was a long, dull afternoon, after weeks of anxiety. He could have gone back over to the house, or out to the store. To anywhere, really, he had neglected all but the most basic of needs for a month. But he sat and sweated, wondering what would happen after the evidence was heard. They'd charge Travers, officially, no more simply keeping him during an investigation, but an actual sentence and actual punishment. They'd assuredly have some sort of punishment for Collins as well, although he'd acted in innocence, mere obedience. That was unfortunate.

_What about me? What do they do if Travers maintains I was in on it all the time? _There_'s nothing to prove I didn't go along with it at first. I'll be brought before the board as well. I'll probably loose my rank as Watcher. _

_ Giles lost his. But that didn't change who he was._

_ I am not as strong as that. And nowhere near as ruthless and reckless._

_ Perhaps I ought to be. _

He got up from his seat, frustratedly rubbing at his red rimmed eyes and inhaling, deep breaths to keep his calm.

He threw open the windows, trying to air the place out as the scent of Collins' cigarettes hit him afresh, paced and fiddled a bit before falling onto his unmade bed with a weary sigh.

_ Nothing to do but wait and worry. I'm so tired of both._

_ So tired._

Soon he closed his eyes, and sleep overcame him.

* * *

He woke to his alarm ringing, then stopping. Then ringing again. Then stopping. "Oh, do shut up." He groaned and rolled. It refused. He sat up with a bleary, confused look on his face, looking at the window, blinking at a night sky. _What time is it? Why is my alarm going off now?_

Groping for his glasses, his eyes focused on the phone. "What now?" Adrenaline instantly spurting into his system he grabbed the receiver and answered with a sharp, "Hello, Wyndham-Pryce here."

"And here as well." A grave, haughty voice informed him.

Wesley's shoulders sagged, the weight of the world firmly slammed back onto them. "Hello, Father."

* * *

"Don't waste time on petty pleasantries with me, boy." Wyndham-Pryce Senior instructed harshly.

"Of course." _I had no idea a greeting was no considered a waste of breath._ "It's -" _blast it, where's the clock when you need it? _"It's late here, so it must be-"

"Don't tell me the time! It's the middle of the night in London, and that's where I am, all of us in fact, are still here, at headquarters."

"Yes. Yes, of course." Wesley hastily agreed. "Collins is giving his side of the story, and-"

"Oh, he finished an hour ago. Sensible, obedient chap Collins. Not given to dramatics."

_You have a good word for everyone, Father. Everyone but your only son. _"He seemed truly horrified at the turn of events." Wesley said quietly.

"As am I! Which is why I cannot bear to go home to your mother. To wake her up and tell her what you've done. What path you've led us down. Oh, I prayed Collins' evidence would clear it up, but it's only tightened the noose."

Genuinely stunned, Wesley stammered out, "Me? I- I risked everything to expose this plan, Father!"

"Oh yes, and damned theatrical about it, weren't you? Cloak and dagger, secret recordings, plots and planning. You're not in an Agatha Christie novel!" The older man's voice thundered and even a continent and an ocean apart, his progeny quivered. Wesley could feel the rubber returning to his recently acquired stiff spine.

"Surely being discreet was better, Sir. To confront Travers to his face would have led to- well, you heard about Spears?"

"I did." The voice paused, a small glimpse of humanity shining through, for a moment. "He was a good boy. Too eager. But loyal. Driven. I admired that."

_Oh, and I was every bit as driven! I worked far harder, studied far longer, I'm the one picked for duty with an active Slayer, not Spears._ Wesley crushed down those paltry feelings and tried to seal himself up inside that wall of manners and crisp collars, all geared so that the painful words rolled right off your back. "We're all sorry for his loss."

"None more so than Collins. Man is a shell of himself."

"I imagine trying to murder an innocent girl will do that to you. If you have a conscience." Wesley's tone was bitter.

His father squashed that tiny spark of strength at once, with practiced ease. "It needn't have gotten this far! None of this. To think that my own flesh and blood should bring such disgrace upon-"

For one of the very few times in his life, Wesley was moved to interrupt. "Now, see here, Father, I did my duty, my sworn oath as Watcher to aid and assist my Slayer and-"

"Rubbish! Rubbish and lies!" The elder Pryce cried furiously. "No, you didn't pull the trigger, you didn't even suggest the plan, but by God you made a mockery and circus of this, and of all of us!"

Too injured to speak, Wesley just blinked and let the blood pound in his ears, swept up in a tirade of cutting words, a thousand flashbacks coming home to him again. Always an angry face, or a cold, disapproving one. Nothing ever done well enough or correctly.

"You were sent to fix things! A crisis we'd never had before, two Slayers at once, and one Watcher, then no Watcher and who do we send? You! Head Boy, but green as grass. Of course you failed! You couldn't keep a spaniel in line on a lead, let alone the two most powerful women in the world. Oh, and don't think we didn't know just because we were miles away. You couldn't command their respect!"

"Perhaps you have to be given some in order to know how to ask for it." Wesley whispered tightly.

His father ignored that, or if he noticed, he considered it too unimportant to acknowledge. "_You_ were the one! You asked for a new assignment. Put the ideas in Travers' head with your pitiful whining. 'She won't listen to me, I've lost control of her!'."

"She is not to be controlled. She is a human, not a machine that one can program!" Wesley growled.

His father paused a split second, and for a brief moment, Wesley thought his tone and his anger finally penetrated the never ending shield of disapproval. But he was wrong. When the voice began again it was low and virulent, oozing angry regret.

"A man in power cracks from yet another incompetent, overemotional weakling unable to shoulder his responsibilities."

"You can't believe that Travers was right, can you? Not right at all, even in the slightest!" Wesley exclaimed in horror.

"Don't talk nonsense, Wesley, of course I don't think any thing of the kind. To kill an innocent human is the highest crime, treason against mankind. It's why we hunt demons, it's the purpose of a Slayer. And Ms. Summers, aside from her strange romantic dalliances, has proven herself to be thoroughly committed to preserving human life and slaughtering the vampires who end it. A firm, commanding hand could have handled this entire situation, made peace and cooperation occur. Travers didn't want anything but an obedient woman who he knew would follow orders. Orders in line with her own aims, with the aims of all good people."

"Father, he tried to murder her! He called up demons from the depths of otherworldly hells and set vampires on her!"

"Because he had lost control of her! An uncontrolled Slayer is a tremendous liability! Look at your other failure, what's her name? Lehane! Look at Lehane!"

_Look at Lehane. _"What was that, Father?"

"He was fully within his rights to seek control of the Slayer! But he shouldn't have tried to call a new one." A pause, and a deep, loathing snarl, "He should have called a new _Watcher_."

The thought Wesley was chasing escaped him yet again. Words pounded into him like heavyweight blows. _Should have called a new Watcher. In other words, I am to blame. This was all my fault._ "So my incompetence drove him mad? Made him a lying, conniving, demon-calling, murderer?"

Even the enraged man had to admit that might have been too far. "No. No, Wesley, unfortunately, we believe that side of him was there already." He confessed mournfully. But sorrow was an uncomfortable feeling for him and anger was so much more empowering. "But it had been kept under control until something snapped it. Something like a little boy playing at soldiers with real troops. Oh, the _shame_ you bring to this name, Wesley. No, he shouldn't have tried to bring a new Slayer to this world, merely recalled one young Watcher. Put in someone experienced. I could have told him- in fact I should have! Even rule abiding and as knowledgeable as you were, you lacked the command. When they put your name up for consideration, I prayed you'd finally make me proud, I cast my vote for you- and look how it's served me."

He didn't know if it was cold sweat or hot tears making him blink his eyes at this point, and his voice was too low to be clearly sad or angry. Numb. Muted. Smashed under his father's heel, as ever. "I'm sorry."

Yet apologizing only made him madder. It showed no strength, just more cowing and cowering. "We're past apologies!"

"Then what do you want me to do?" Wesley sat back up, untucking himself from the hunch he had slowly pressed into.

"There is nothing you can do! You've done the damage."

"I saved her life. I believe- I did the right thing." Wesley choked out, though he tried very hard not to let his father hear the thickening in his voice.

The aging member of the Council also believed that. Honestly, given only the bottom line, he believed his son had done the right thing. But he could not let go of the feeling of disgrace, of the publicity amongst his colleagues and peers, the glances he received in the hallways, the fact that some may have been questioning his ability and judgement, even his place on the board, because of his son's involvement. "It's the way you did it... Not even acting alone, but bringing in the worst elements."

"I could hardly stand against the entire Council by myself with just a few pieces of hearsay!"

"You called upon an ex-Watcher, one living in disgrace! And not only him, that- that Welsh lout, Aberswyth, and a secretary! A secretary, you had her snooping through files like a company mole!"

_I will never win this argument. I should just apologize again. And again. Until he hangs up. That's how it always seems to go. The unwritten rule._

Rules. How had they served them lately?

A vampire desperately pleading for the life of his Slayer. A Slayer claiming a vampire as friend and lover. A gaggle of teens and funny old academics as her appointed front line warriors. _Sometimes you must break all the rules you know to win the game, if the game is important enough. _

"Rupert Giles is a good man. Robson and Aberswyth as well, and Ginny is the name of that secretary, Father, and she shouldn't be doing clerical work. With a mind like hers, and as fast and bright as she is, she should be in Surveillance, or in the field with her future husband."

Across the Atlantic, a graying head lifted, and a fist clenched around the polished black receiver pressed to his ear. "Are you telling me you think those- those _renegades_- are actually Council material?"

"Yes! And the Council would be better off if we had more of them!" Wesley was standing now, own fist clenched and voice beginning to raise, even though he also felt faint. He kept waiting for some sort of thunderbolt to strike him dead, for his father to pull one spectacularly cutting phrase out of his bag of hurtful words and deal him the killing blow.

He didn't have long to wait. "You're just as bad as they are, then. You don't deserve your title, and you don't deserve a place on this Council."

"Then vote against me. Perhaps I'll be deposed, like Giles." Wesley was stung, a wasp's venom pumping into his heart now. All his father had ever wanted was for him to be a great Watcher. The only thing he'd ever done even remotely right was to be considered worthy of a post. And of course, his father had taken all pretense of that away, letting him know for certain he had lost all hope in him.

"Perhaps you will be." The elder Watcher cleared his own throat, finding it suddenly, oddly tight. Must mean it was time to unleash more words, to clear it. "I'm sure I won't be the only one who calls for your removal after this." That was untrue. No one was demanding any such thing. "You and Rupert Giles can make your own Council, and do nothing! You'll both be as equally useful as you ever were!" The tightness didn't clear. He coughed and shouted hoarsely. "I imagine your only job will be to stand guard over Lehane as she lies in that hospital bed! Maybe you'll finally be able to succeed there, Wesley, sitting motionless, staring at an unmoving object that doesn't depend on you for anything! Maybe then you won't _fail! _"

Wesley's eyes blinked and froze open. The thunderbolt had come, but it wasn't that soul crushing pain he usually associated with his father's anger and disappointment. It was a conglomeration of phrases he'd heard in the last few days, suddenly all rolled into one.

_"Lehane can wait. I prefer only having one slayer to deal with. In fact- let her vegetate. I'll have someone over there by the end of the day, a specially trained nurse. We'll keep her alive until we've found a way to reunite the Slayer essences." _

_ "Still, as we are the only Watchers on this coast, - the only active ones- I suppose we'll have to scrape along as best we can_."

"_I imagine your only job will be to stand guard over Lehane as she lies in that hospital bed!"_

All of them connected, and Wesley tuned out his father's words, mind churning too fast to process anything but this thought.

_Oh good Lord! There were more Watchers on the coast than I thought! One more. One more standing guard over Faith. One is enough._

_ Travers was keeping her alive, going after Buffy. _

_ When Travers realized I'd betrayed him, protected Buffy- would he have changed his plans? Would he have switched targets? Was this whole fiasco a decoy, or at the most, a fifty fifty shot? More like a ninety-ten shot, pushing hardest for Buffy's death, his twisted wish for a new Slayer mingled with all his pride and hatred. _

"Wesley! _Wesley!_" Wyndham-Pryce Sr. bellowed as loud as he could, annoyed by his son's complete lack of response after a particularly splendid belittling_. _

"Give my love to mother." Wesley replied in a rush, and dropped the phone to the floor as he sped to his door.

Then he sped back in again. "Weapons! Weapons? Yes, dammit weapons." He didn't have a lot of those, mostly wooden at that. And a sword. Does one take a sword in a crisis? "Why not?" He bundled it up in his arm, his wallet, and his keys._ Keys? Where the hell are mine?_

He patted down his trousers and then seized the keys left on the small bar counter top of his little kitchen, then fled the apartment. He left everything behind and didn't lock the door. Nothing he was leaving behind was more valuable than what was ahead of him.

In a moment, a black car barreled through the night, towards the hospital.

* * *

Sylvia moved with a practiced, efficient gait through the basement halls. Her peach scrubs and white sneakers meant no one looked twice. The folded set of linens in her hands were perfect cover for the barbiturates she carried as insurance.

_Simple. Painless. She's already asleep, poor thing. Quick, clean tug, the life support will cease. Care coverage discontinued. _

_And if,_ Sylvia swallowed, and the gray pallor shown around her eyes,_ if that Slayer strength keeps fighting on, though everything else is technically dead, if the heart keeps pumping... I'm only sending her to dreamland. And no one will think to examine the body. As much damage as the girl had, the uninformed considered any sign of life a miracle._

_Worst case scenario, I give her a little jab, right where the I.V. was, and then reinsert the drip. And then I can call him. I can tell him I've done my duty, and he'll unite me with my Slayer. _My _Slayer. _

The eyes shone, no longer afraid, but filled with some near manic joy.

* * *

Faith was faintly aware of shuffling. Living like this, sometimes everything was black, sometimes it was in color, and sometimes there were sounds. Never voices speaking to her, just about her. Not in a very, very long time had she heard a voice call her by name, say anything except about numbers or vitals or other crap like that. The rustling faded back to black.

* * *

Tidy the room. Notes on the clipboard. Remove catheter. Move pillows. No flowers to water, or balloons or stuffed animals or cards to fuss with. She fluffed the pillows once more.

Waiting to make sure no one else was in this lonely hall, and that no one would think anything unusual about a nurse attending a comatose patient.

"Let's just see how you're doing tonight." Sylvia murmured in a falsely calm, pleasant tone. Hands on her wrists, fingers. Fingers were warm. Sylvia frowned. It would have been better if she'd been cool. Easier to believe this was a body waiting to be classified as such, instead of a young woman.

She clucked and tsked, and gently raised a bruised looking eyelid.

Sylvia bit her lip and stifled a curse.

The brown eye was alert! It seemed to focus on her. The pupil was responsive to the light change. The brain wave activity showed a tiny spike. Then another. Another. Oh God, _real _activity! A pattern, not an occasional fluke. _Not now, not now, not now!_

Sylvia let the eyelid fall and it fluttered weakly, like a moth caught in a storm. Shaking hands fumbled among her towels and sheets, searching for the injectables.

Faith's uncanny senses twinged and pinged. _What is it? What's wrong? Am I dying? I don't feel like I'm dying. Feel like shit, but, if I _know_ I feel like shit, that probably means something._

Faith's cracked, beige-colored lips parted in a mute exclamation as something was jerked out of her arm. A warm trickle of blood was sopped up, and Faith used every ounce of her beyond natural strength to force her eyes open just a sliver.

Sylvia was unsettled. She'd unplugged the machines now, one by one, and waited for some sign of slowing. But nothing. The thready pulse, if anything, became stronger. Time for the drugs. She found her hands had the nerves that she refused to acknowledge outright, for they jerked roughly, clumsily, and blood flowed from the vein before she was ready to stop it up.

Syringe loading was difficult with one hand, but she had to keep the washcloth pressed to the arm now, or someone would wonder why there was blood on the sheets and her gown. And the stained washcloth- _I have to hide that, burn it._ The hands trembled again, unsteady as they prepared to inject the drug, enough to send her into a permanent slumber.

Faith knew something was wrong. Slayer senses, waking after hibernation, screamed "Danger! Danger!" _This is where I kick ass. _

Her body had betrayed her. She couldn't move. Her fingertips danced once, then lay still, trembling slightly. _Outside forces. Controlled my life. Ended my life. _The liquid brown eyes opened further, painfully, and met anxious ones a foot away.

"I'm sorry, my dear. Your time is up." Sylvia said with a sick attempt at compassion.

I have to move, I have to! The fingers flailed again, and her arm made a leap of an inch that left her feeling ready for death, so literally "dead tired".

"You've been still for a month. You have no muscle tone. Even for- well what you are- that's a long time to sleep." Sylvia kept prattling, sheer anxiety making her hiss out words as she pulled the arm taut, lifting it to her side. "You'll sleep now, my lamb. Sleep where no one will hurt you..."

Her strength gave out, arm went limp, eyelids fell, squeezing out a tear from under each as she waited for a cold steel pinch.

Which didn't come. Rustling came. And two sharp grunts, one male, one female, she could tell. Eyelids managed to struggle open again, a millimeter just enough to see-

_I must be dead. 'Cause this sure wouldn't happen on earth._

* * *

_Ten minutes ago..._

Wesley sped. He parked in the loading zone. He didn't give a damn. He ran.

"Faith Lehane, please!" He demanded breathlessly at the central reception desk.

"Family?"

"Yes!"_ I am still her Watcher. Until they dismiss me._ He thought of Buffy and Giles._ Even after. _

"Name?"

"Ah- Albert. Mister. Mister Albert. Lehane." Wesley decided to work on his lying skills as soon as he made sure she was okay. He was sure nothing was wrong. It was all paranoia.

_And I have excellent reason for that._ "She's my late brother's daughter. I'm not listed. I've been overseas."

"I thought you sounded like you weren't from around here." The receptionist smiled slightly. "I'm sorry, there are no family members listed on here."

"I'll have my lawyers phone up to show you proof of relationship, if you like." The lying improved under pressure. Or maybe it was just channeling pomposity that did it, as he drew himself up to his full height, looked down his nose, and continued, "In the meantime, please get me a hospital administrator to speak to, I need to at least be apprised of my niece's condition. I heard she was in a coma. Massive blood loss and head trauma. If I find that this hospital has been in any way negligent in her care simply because they didn't thoroughly investigate who her next of kin was..."

"I'll -" The girl looked around frowning. After eight. All the screwballs come in third shift, and of course the admins would be the third string ones as well, the ones who you could never find and pretended they didn't hear you page them. _We're going to get sued._ "I'll find someone for you."

"Yes, you'd better."

Wesley waited until she hustled off, then leaned over the desk and yanked the computer monitor to face him. "Lehane, Faith, female, long term care, basement level. Room 001."

He ran again, everything but signs and arrows a blur. Elevators took too long to arrive, and so he stumbled down steps and panted and scared people in the stairwell as he came panting and streaking past them.

He calmed himself and adjusted his pace to that of a purposeful walk. _I am here to see my sick friend. I mean- niece. Perhaps I should have said cousin, the age difference might be more plausible. Never mind who. I am gravely concerned so I frown and give off "vibes" as Buffy calls them, that I have business here and have no time to talk to you. _

It worked. No one even looked up as he entered the ward, and walked all the way down to the very last room on the left.

Then calmness left him.

* * *

_Present..._

He hesitated for a second. A nurse preparing an injection. This was routine. He prepared to knock softly, then he saw the woman slip a bloodstained cloth into her pocket. _But the laundry hamper is right there. And bloody linen is never touched in a hospital setting if they can help it. And bare hands are never used either. _

_She's not wearing gloves. She's not a real nurse. Faith!_

He hadn't felt this before, but it was a superhuman rush. He suddenly understood why Giles would make deals with vampires, why he'd steal cars, why he even thought about taking a life. There was something very, very precious, a one of a kind jewel with a living soul- and it was his to guard, and he could not let it be lost.

He didn't recognize himself in the rush, only knew that he was through the door in a silent blur, and his elbow crashed into the back of the woman's skull with enough force to make her grunt and fall to her knees, and him to grunt and wonder how one wore an elbow cast.

* * *

The shock of what she saw made her eyes flare open, then settle halfway closed, watching the show from the corner of her straining eyes.

Faith didn't recognize this man. At first. When she did, she couldn't believe it anyway.

_Mr. Uptight, Up My Ass- minus the glasses and the suit- going for the K.O. on the nurse lady. Power move, a bone to the back of the head. Ooh, and when she rises- knees her in the face! _The eyes found another burst of interest forcing them open again.

* * *

The rush wore off when the pain set in and the blood started to flow from the unconscious woman's split lips and bashed nose. "Oh what've I done? What've I done?" Wesley held his hand to his mouth. _What if _that_ was a nurse? A careless, new nurse, but a nurse nonetheless?_ "What have I done?"

A weak, dry whisper followed his words. "What've you _done_? Who the hell _are_ you?" Faith's eyes were closed, but she managed to gasp out her question.

Pain and worry forgotten. "Faith!" Wesley nudged the prone form out of the way, and yanked the privacy curtain around the bed, coming to her side as he spoke urgently. "Listen to me, we haven't got much time." He began. "They'll know something is wrong in a moment. That nurse should be back on her rounds I imagine, or they'll have heard the noise. Or they'll check for equipment failure. Your monitors aren't sending any data- they've all been unplugged." He was instantly relieved. "Oh good. She's _not _a real nurse."

"No." Faith didn't have energy for a big answer, though her weak body managed a tiny smirk. If he had beaten up a legit nurse it would have been funny. "Think I... got that... when she said my time... was up." Oh man, speaking wore her out. Her eyes were frantic when she opened them again. Weak and unable to move very much, or at least not without feeling like she'd just went ten rounds with a horde of vampires, she realized the last memory she had was battling with Buffy. And this simp was on the goody-goody side. _So why'd he save my life?_

_ It's what the good guys do._

_ I guess the baddies just leave you to rot. Or hire someone to shoot you up with whatever was going to end up in my arm._

"Your time is not up." Wesley misread the panic in her eyes. "You just aren't used to speaking. We'll sit you up and you'll be fine in a minute. And then we need to move." He looked over his shoulder and at the woman on the floor. "Just for a minute." He mumbled and slid her up with one arm, scooting pillows under her back.

She fell back halfway, unable to catch herself, and she glared at him for it. "What'd they do to me?"

"You've been in a coma for about a month, Faith. Severe head trauma. You'll be fine. You're a Slayer. Your body can work through most things." _I've just had first hand proof. And Travers is wrong. This 'second string' is not inferior. She's every bit as strong as Buffy.- at least physically. And many times more likely to slit my throat. _"I'm sorry to - ah- come upon you so abruptly, but-"

"Take your hands- off me." Faith spat with as much anger as she could call forth. _Damn. Thought there'd be more._

"If I do that, you'll fall out of bed." Wesley told her flatly.

Faith huffed and blinked angrily, shifted around to knock his hands off. Nothing. More like a muscle spasm. "Why are you here?" Faith masked gratitude and relief with memories of rage and hate. _Hate him. Hate them all. Stupid dupes, all of them pretending the real world was some magic fairyland with happy endings. Good guys. Yeah. _Stupid_ guys, more like._

"Travers is trying to kill you. He's gone mad, barking, blistering mad. That nurse was a Watcher, one he ordered to stand guard over you. Well- posted here, with you." _I should have guarded her. She would have killed me. She still may._

"Huh? What?" Faith was genuinely startled. B might want to kill her. That was the point of so much of what she'd done. To make her know... what it was like when the darkness had hold of you and you stopped trying to fight it, and you just let yourself get swallowed up. Stop fighting the good fight, and just fight nasty, because you were good at it, and power was a trip, man.

_But tweedy boss man, who I've never even met? I was in a coma! What evil was I doing? Just leave me to die slowly, locked in this gray box with no windows. It'd hurt more. With everyone hating me. No one coming to see me. _

Her dark brows drew together, and her eyes raised up to meet his. "What happened?"

"Oh, what do you think? Wesley snapped waspishly. _For heavens' sake, why are we having this discussion now? Someone tried to kill you and we can talk about it after we leave the room with the unconscious woman in it! _"Buffy won, the town isn't devils playground, and you have a very long list of enemies in _both_ camps, for what you were, or what you are, or what they think you might be."

Discomfort. No one was supposed to look under the armor. "The usual, huh?" Faith said with a touch of her dark wit.

_She still smirks. Or she can't control her facial muscles. Either way... Yes, that probably was her usual. _Sadly he didn't know, and hadn't bothered to find out more than the basics- the basics according to what a young, prideful Watcher needed to know. Troubled past. Death of one Watcher. Then thrust into the care of a reckless, unsuitable one. Needed a firm hand, rules, orders, someone to show her respectability.

In other words- he knew nothing. Except this.

Faith gasped as his grip shifted. Wesley left his stance supporting her, and came around her front, pushing her shoulders back so he could look in her eyes while kneeling. "Now listen to me- I am not the person you think I am, and you are not the girl I think you want to be."

She hated this. Him looking at her, with something- honest and unvarnished in those eyes. "You don't know me." She growled weakly.

"No. I don't." Wesley returned simply, truthfully..

But people lie and play or expect something. People don't agree or use the truth unless they need to conceal a bigger lie, Faith's bruised psyche reminded her. "What's the deal?" She asked cautiously, wondering what he could want, what in the world she had left that someone could take.

"I want to get you out of here!"

A half mumbled moan came from the nurse. Wesley winced, and applied his foot to her face with a mumbled apology. "I can't keep her knocked out indefinitely!" Wesley looked back at Faith with an anxious stare.

Speaking and breathing were getting easier. Not much to go on, but at least she could tell him where to get off. "I'm not gonna be slaying- for either team- for a long time. Not the way I'm feeling..."_ In other words, don't do me any favors. I don't want to owe you one. I never liked being owned._

Apparently he didn't realize that was what helping her equated to. He shook his head and continued in a low, urgent voice, "That doesn't matter. If you stay here, you die, and I don't want that to happen."

Oh come on! If B, poster girl for Good Guys Inc. wanted her filling a coffin, and the Almighty Prince of Tweed was sending fake nurses after her, then this stuffed shirt was just playing with her. _Ha. You want to see me get all weak and helpless? Already am. I'm not gonna crack anymore for you._ "That so? Why not, English?" Faith demanded.

"Because I am- no, because I _want to be_ your Watcher." _I am many things without you. But I am not what I want to be._

"I don't work for anyone. Never will, ever again." Faith shot that down in a hurry.

"Then I won't work for anyone either." Wesley vowed._ They would dismiss me anyway, according to Father. I suppose I'll lose my pension. I won't live to retirement anyway. When she gets back to full strength, I may not live to see my next birthday. I lose the title I've coveted my whole life._ He thought of Giles. _No. You might lose something official, some ink scratched out, words stricken from the rolls, perhaps._ _But you never lose the _position _of Watcher. Not if you do it right. _

"What?" Faith blinked.

"If I'm your Watcher, and you won't work for anyone, then I won't work for anyone." He reiterated. His eyes left hers and began to scan around the room. He hadn't planned on this. Well, he hadn't planned, period. _ We have to get her out of here and she can't walk. This must be the most negligent hospital in the world, where is security? Where is- _He stopped and sighed. _This is a Hellmouth after all. I wonder if a good percentage of those in the morgue suddenly make a recovery of the vampiric nature? _"Give me a moment. If we're going to get you out of here we need a wheelchair. And we have to do something with _her_." He grunted at the body in scrubs.

"I'm not going with you!" Faith declared reflexively. _Why not? He has a lot more reason to be scared of me than the other way around. I was the one who played them. I could still play him. Wait until I get better and sneak up behind him. Knife in the-_Something inside abruptly snapped the train of thought onto a new track. _What 'outside force' makes you want to do that? Kill a human? Who just saved your life? _

Nothing. Just better not to trust people. Her eyes closed, the effort of keeping them open for minutes at a time suddenly too exhausting, more than she'd done in weeks.

_Maybe for everyone, it might be safer, if I wasn't around people. Slayers are like that. Loners. So we don't hurt. Maybe so we don't _get_ hurt._ "I'm not going with you." Her voice was fainter, less reactive.

Wesley ignored her for a moment, slipping from behind the curtain round her bed after another hasty glance at the form on the floor, recalling that he'd seen one of those old, folding plasticine leather and steel wheelchairs in the hall. He furtively looked out the door. An orderly at the far end. The nurses station was a good distance from her door and no one was facing his direction. He silently lifted the contraption up and slid back inside.

Faith opened her eyes again to see him unfolding the chair, locking it's collapsible joints in place. "Didn't you hear me?"

Yes, he'd heard her. He stopped fiddling with it, and moved back to the foot of her bed. Eyes locked.

He didn't know where this voice came from, nor the words. Maybe desperation. Maybe not giving a damn anymore. He was a condemned man in many ways, and so was she.

Faith's eyes opened fully , staring, as the voice turned low and gritty, but not threatening. Simply very, very sure, very soft. Almost silky, but silk stretched to the snapping point.

"I'm giving you a choice- either you lay here and waste away to nothing, or you trust someone for once in your life and we give each other a second chance to be the Watcher and Slayer no one thought we could be. That no one thinks we _can _be- not even us." What was making him talk like that, like he was struggling for air when she was the one who had been barely breathing? Nonetheless, the words were fierce and labored, even though they were coming out in a quiet voice. His last offer was said the softest, yet made her feel the most. "You lay here and die- or we show the world who we really are." He straightened back up, released the mattress that had somehow come to be the support under his hands, and stared at her, waiting.

She stalled. So many things inside her reached for that, and so many things warned her to back away. Stalling was middle ground. "Big speech..." She raised one eyebrow and tried to cross her arms indifferently.

He gave her a sardonic smile and offered her his hand. "Much shorter than my usual." _Take it. I know you can if you want to. If you still want to try._

She looked at it, fingers ticking slightly, and she shook her head once, muscles limp, but Slayer healing working with her newly awakened will. "I'm not trusting you- I don't know who you really are, man..."

It was so easy to quail under her rejection and mistrust. Wesley didn't let her see that. He looked at her unflinchingly, keeping his hand a few inches from hers. "Lying here won't help you find out, either." More certain words. "Those are the choices, Faith- second chances with someone who has nothing else to lose and everything to gain- or be nothing." A flash and a flare in her eyes, the real person underneath the hard mask. He dropped the unwavering glare he wore as well, just enough to let her see the empathy in his eyes. "Like they said we would be..."

The mocha eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're not the same guy."

"No. I'm not." Some sort of bitter pride came across in his tones. "I don't think any of us have ever met the real Faith. Not even you, perhaps."

Ooh, the fire was blazing now, molten and coppery in those formerly candid eyes. "Don't analyze me."

"Fine. I won't . But let me help you." This was becoming maddening. He now realized why Giles sometimes seemed to fly close to the edge.

"Don't rush me." Faith said mulishly.

Certainly a wise suggestion in this case. But not the one he could follow. He shook his head sorrowfully. "I'm afraid I have to, we're running out of time. Those are the choices- what's it to be?"

Faith smiled a sickly version of her tough girl grin. "Death is such a buzz kill..." She struggled to sit up slightly, and this time her shoulders lifted on their own. Wesley caught her around the wrist, and helped her up, feeling feeble fingers clench reflexively on his.

Faith grit her teeth. It was the first time in a long time someone had been stronger and she was weaker. She thought it was the first time that had happened to him too. He didn't mention it, no gloat, no big grin, just another urgent look over his shoulder. "Into the wheelchair, your chariot awaits."

"Ooh a chariot. What kind?" Faith tried to joke to cover up the frustration she felt that he had to half lift her, half drag her up, that she leaned so heavily on him, and felt like a rag doll from the waist down.

"Hrm. It's a rather battered stolen rental honestly..." Wesley winced and sat her into the seat.

"Stolen?" An impressed look crept over her face. "Watcher's got some balls..."

Wesley felt his chest expand with a rush of pride, though he kept his motions quick and matter of fact. "Perhaps."

"Stolen from who?"

"Spike, Buffy, and an assortment of Council agents, and the good people at Pacific North Rent-A-Car." He smiled lopsidedly up at her as he evened out her legs.

All of that made NO sense but it didn't matter. Watcher grew some balls, and some bad to that ass! "No way! Sweet!" She chuckled. It startled them both.

"You may want to wait until you see it before you praise me too much." He knelt at her feet, sliding the wheelchair footrests under them.

Surreal. Mr. Suit and Accent, knocking out sweet little ladies, stealing cars, appearing like a scruffy savior and making her think, just for a second, that someone might offer you helping hand and not be holding a knife in the other one.

"I'm still knocked out aren't I?" Faith asked as he reached under the small nightstand and retrieved a bag of bloodstained clothes and personal possessions. He dropped them in her lap with a soft thud. "Feels so real..."

With a supreme effort, he lifted the unconscious "nurse" from the floor into the bed, and covered her with the sheet. _That'll buy us about five minutes. I hope. _"Would you dream this?" He demanded, tugging the sheets up firmly and turning breathlessly back to Faith.

"Um. _No._ Never." She scoffed openly.

"There you are then. You are- what's that phrase you like? 'Five by five'?" He suggested with a grim little twinkle in his eye.

Faith shook her head and smiled wanly. "Dude, I am one by one at the_ most_."

"That's a start." He stood behind her now, gripped the plastic handles. "Here we go. I'm afraid this isn't going to be smooth. In fact this whole evening has fallen into the fast and messy category. But you'll be alive at the end of it."_ I hope with my whole heart._

She hugged the bag tighter to her, and leaned back, letting him drive. _Fast. Messy. Alive at the end._ "Just the way I like it."

He snuck a smile at the top of her head, pushed, and sent them out the door, back into the world once more.

* * *

_To be concluded..._


	32. Chapter 32

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: Creole/vodoun terms are used in this chapter. I've used most of them before, or you can figure them out from context, but _"Reler"_ means "to call". _

_Author's Second Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you. That is all._

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, micmoc, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, ValidescopeWest, Rachel, Alottalove, Cavementftw, Maire Ailbhe, Illusera, hbmckidd, mike13z50, Loverswalk89, Suzanne, KittenofDoomage, PeaceHeather, CailinRua, Neinka, cosmiclove, N172Shay, ShyL, LOVEisRealand4eva, Kathryn Merlin, Kerry2202, marty powell, slayergirl, Beige Flicka, Seapea, kse93, Spit, nrs, and Tawny._

_Thank you to the faithful ones who are hanging in there until the very end!_

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Part XXXII**

_Day Twenty Nine..._

Giles' car turned onto the street where Wesley's neat, modern block of flats was located. "I don't think this is a wise idea."

"Someone who flips plates like you do doesn't have any call having second thoughts." Spike grinned.

"That was in my sordid past- and for emergencies." He mumbled.

"My mom is going to consider it an emergency if I want to borrow her Jeep all the time." Buffy chimed in from the backseat.

"This one was a nice smooth ride- even the way she drives." Spike gave her a smirking glance. "A little paint, a new plate-"

The Watcher rolled his eyes. "Amateurs. File the numbers off the engine and- hrm. We're _not_ keeping the car." He concluded, cheeks turning a ruddy shade.

"Giles!" Buffy giggled. "I'm beginning to have serious questions about your 'boring, tweedy' past. Ooh, and that reminds me- your friend? Mr. Museum Guy? Had an _incredibly_ dull looking life based on the pictures in his house. All work and no play leaves not a whole lot behind. We're going to the mall, and we're getting in the photo booth. Maybe Disneyland next. I bet you'd look cute in one of those Mickey Mouse hats with the big ears."

"Did you train her in the art of torture?" Giles groaned to Spike, but he was smiling in the darkness.

"She has it nailed without my help. Doesn't even have to use anything but that pretty little mouth and that clever little-"

"Stop! I don't want to hear this!" Giles missed a gear and stalled as he jerked into a space in the lot.

"Brain. I was gonna say brain." Spike looked maliciously pleased at the Watcher's discomfort.

"Say all you want later, when I'm not around. I want to do this and get back home. Did your mother get hold of your father?"

"He's back in LA, she thinks." Buffy sighed. "But the way she was talking, it sounds like he never knew?"

"Hrm. Not as such."

"Well... good. Less awkwardness. There is going to be _major _awkwardness as soon as I see anyone. I mean- the mall alone. Ooh. People might faint. I mean- dead shopper walking." She gave an apprehensive glance at Spike.

"You'll fit in fine in this town." Spike reassured.

"We'll find a way to explain it effectively, but for now-" Giles stepped out of the car, "I'll get Wesley, you two wait here. I don't know why you insisted on coming anyway."

"To get away from the constant staring." Spike mumbled. Joyce never took her eyes off of him, and it was beginning to make him twitchy.

"Watcher-bonding, duh." Buffy teased and stepped out of the car as well. She looked around and frowned.

"We'll bond later, let me go get the keys." Giles began slipping swiftly away.

"Um. Giles?"

"Buffy, it'll take two minutes, I'm sure he's eager to get the vehicle off his hands."

"Very eager." Spike looked through the small lot. "The car's gone."

* * *

The flat was empty. No clothes missing, nothing out of place. Keys to Wesley's car were found under a sofa cushion. The phone was on its side on the floor.

"He's not dead. I can't come in, so he's alive, someplace." Spike murmured from the doorway.

"No sign of forced entry. At least until we got here." Buffy flexed her foot, recently used to kick open the door. Despite her action-packed role, her voice wobbled. "Giles... do you think he...?"

Giles blinked hard. "Little twerp." He swallowed. "He probably just wanted to dispose of the car himself. Prove he was still useful." He clasped the keys tightly.

"You used to lie much better." Buffy fled to Spike's arms.

"Parts of the world didn't used to be so ugly." Giles swallowed rising bile. _They got him. Someone must've gotten to him._ "His Academy tie! He wouldn't have left without that. Maybe he's coming back." Giles hurried to the bedroom, mumbling to himself, as Buffy snuffled and walked away from Spike.

"Nothin' looks broken." Spike comforted awkwardly. "He was the whiny one, Luv, maybe he just had to go out and ditch the car on his own, prove he was one of the big boys."

"I hope so." Buffy absently bent and hung up the cordless phone back in its base. "Anything?" She called towards the bedroom.

"A collection of ties so neatly organized that it surely points to some form of acute childhood trauma."

"Including the special sacred tie?"

"Including that tie. His monogrammed cufflinks as well." Giles came back into the living room with a grave expression. He tried to hide it. "We're all being a bit overreactive."

"You live on a Hellmouth. People been tryin' to off Slayer all month, and he's the biggest whistleblower they know of." Spike looked up and down the hall. "I think you've got reason to react, over or otherwise."

"Should we call the police?" Buffy asked worriedly.

"We should call your mother first, perhaps he went there. We should stop by my flat as well. He may have thought he was saving us time by meeting me there." Giles muttered distractedly, keen eyes raking over surfaces, looking for clues.

Spike sniffed in. "No other human scent in here, but his. Not in the last half day or more anyway."

"Giles..." Buffy gave her Watcher a look that showed her fear. "What do you think happened?"

"I think- Buffy, did you put the phone back on the hook?"

"Yeah. Oh! Crap. Fingerprints? Giles, if we're going to worry about fingerprints, we're kinda late!"

'No, not that, the little light is blinking."

"There's a message. The kidnappers? Could they want ransom?"

"The Council, perhaps." Giles frowned. "One of Travers' loyalists. Dear Lord." _Do they want a trade? Slayer for Watcher's life. _ But he wouldn't let Buffy know he'd had that thought. "Or it could be something as simple as a reminder to pick up his dry cleaning."

"Or... you could stop playin' guessin' games and push the soddin' button." Spike growled dryly. "Bloody hell, it's a good thing I can't get into this place or I'd shake you both."

"Real evil." Buffy winked, but reached out and pushed the button.

The sound of loud trucks and the blare of a diesel exhaust crackled across the line. "I imagine it's after midnight, and you're wondering where I am. Obviously the car isn't there either." Wesley's voice was calm and collected, almost amused. "Well... it'd be safer for you if you don't know too much. I'd like you to know not to worry, though. We're fine. We'll_ be_ fine. You'll see." Another scream of a large engine made them cringe away.

"He's being awfully guarded."Giles murmured.

"I guess he has good reason to be." Buffy folded her arms and hugged herself.

"I won't say we'll be in touch," a muffled mumble offside, then the voice was clear and close again, "but I imagine if things go the way I hope that we will be, someday. Take care of each other. You've all been... well. Take care. Goodbye."

* * *

The trio left the apartment in puzzled silence. "He took the other car deliberately."

"Couldn't find his own keys." Spike said with certainty borne of long observations of humans. "He was in a bloody big hurry if he didn't take his precious ties and all the rest."

"I suppose." Giles was more affected that he'd thought he would be. He moved almost in a trance, only half listening to his two companions.

"Truck stop pay phone." Buffy nodded to Spike.

"How can you be so sure?" Giles asked, stirred back to full focus.

"We know!" The duo said firmly, with twin eye rolls.

"Alright, alright, you know."

They stood by Giles' Citroen, looking worriedly back at the flat, now locked behind them, though the lock wouldn't hold under much pressure. "I supposed he couldn't be certain we'd be the ones to hear the message."

"He sounded relaxed. That's not at all Wesley-ish." Buffy planted her feet, refusing to move further.

"He's not entirely the person you knew, Buffy. He risked more than we can imagine, in at least one way. His father's a very-" _He's a very big git, full of his own importance._ "He's very rigid in matters pertaining to the Council."

"So Watcher Jr. risked brassing off the proud patriarch. Is that likely to make him flee to parts unknown in a stolen car?"

"Who can say?" Giles smiled vaguely in the darkness. "I think it might be something a little more important than that."

"Like what?"

"He said 'we'." Spike recalled. "Watcher's got himself a girl?"

Buffy looked startled. "You think?"

"I think," Giles loudly spoke over the speculation, "that we all have to get home. Tomorrow- today rather- is going to be a very busy one."

* * *

_Several hours later..._

_ "It's a busy day here at Sunnydale Six, your station for local news, weather, and sports. Colleen, what's happening today?"_

_ "Well, Todd, it's a miracle for students and staff at Sunnydale High School, and the community in general. Almost a month ago to the day, Sunnydale High School was destroyed when a gas main exploded under the school during the graduation ceremony. The explosion caused a fast burning fire to consume the building in a matter of moments. The community was shaken by the loss of Mayor Wilkins, the school principal, Mr. Snyder, and over a dozen high school seniors. But there's good news for one family."_

_ "Why's that, Colleen?"_

_ "It's a wonderful story that's still breaking, Todd, so we'll keep updating you throughout the day. It seems that early this morning Mrs. Joyce Summers woke up to find her daughter, presumed dead, standing on her doorstep in the company of a good Samaritan who wishes to remain anonymous."_

_ "Presumed dead? After all this time?"_

_ "That's right, Todd. Buffy Summers, eighteen, claims she was hit on the head by a flying piece of debris during the explosion. Stunned, and in the ensuing confusion, she wandered away from the commencement area, passing out a short way up the highway. A passing motorist picked up the unconscious girl and drove her to safety. For the past month, Ms. Summers has slowly been recovering from her injuries in the care of this highway humanitarian, until a few days ago when she was able to tell her anonymous rescuer what happened and where she lived. He brought her safely home. We now have a crew over there hoping to interview the family at this joyous time. Let's go live to Revello Drive. Bob?"_

_ "Well, Colleen- the Summers family reported the good news, but they'd like us to respect their privacy at this- very special time of reunion." Bob kept his face turned to the side and smiled stiffly. _

_ "Were you able to speak to Miss Summers or her mother?"_

_ "Briefly."_

* * *

"You can't see the black eye." Xander pointed to the screen.

"You shouldn't have hit him, Mom!"

"He was trying to get picture of Spike!"

"Spike can look after himself." Giles sank back on the sofa and took the glass of orange juice out of Xander's hand and drained half of it. "Joyce, would you happen to have any aspirin?"

"Maybe a shot of vodka?" Spike suggested with a snarl, trailing Joyce, but speaking back into the living room. "Bastard almost fried me, crashin' through the door like that. Good thing I still had my coat on."

"The phone is gonna start ringing soon." Buffy watched the news shift back to the studio.

"This is a nightmare! All I did was call the police and the insurance people."

"You didn't have to tell them the whole thing."

"They asked me for information! They said they needed it for the case file and the coroner, or they had to come over and take statements." Joyce handed Spike a bottle of something alcoholic, she didn't notice what, and thrust the aspirin at him as well. "You said that was the story!"

"The story for people we know!" Buffy exclaimed.

"Then what was the story for people we don't know?" Joyce threw a dishtowel down angrily.

"This is starting to sound like my parents' place!" Xander yelled over both of them. "Kill the shouting! Who cares what they know, as long as they know you're back and alive? Who cares about ANYTHING but that you're_ back _and _alive_?"

The screen shifted from commercial to studio with a flash of background music, and the occupants of the living room were oblivious to it. "You make a wonderful point, Xander." Giles rose from the couch. "Buffy, Joyce? Sit down and catch up. Xander and Spike and I can go see to-"

_"Another unbelievable story, although this one is somewhat more sinister."_

_"Yes, Colleen. Police report that a patient disappeared from the long term care last night. The woman- you can see her image on the screen-"_

"Faith! Faith, Giles, Xander, it's Faith!" Buffy gasped and pointed, and the room was riveted to the screen again.

_"-has been in a coma for about five weeks. Her disappearance is baffling hospital administrators. When a nurse made her rounds shortly before midnight, they found another unconscious nurse lying in her bed, all the life support systems unhooked, and the patient missing. A blood stained cloth was found on the nurse's body. The patient's blood and the blood on the cloth seem to be a match. Police aren't releasing names at this time, but we'll keep you posted folks. If anyone has seen this woman, you can call the hotline number rolling on the bottom of your screen. She is believed to be in need of serious medical attention."_

_"Such a sad story." But they'd gotten used to it, covering the news in Sunnydale, and so it was quickly glossed over, large smiles replacing the serious faces they'd worn in a matter of seconds. "But I know what news won't make you sad. Let's go to Sharon who has this week's forecast. Sharon?"_

_"It's going to be beautiful, Colleen."_

* * *

"I believe we've just figured out who Wesley is with." Giles clicked off the set.

"Why would he kidnap her?" Buffy looked aghast.

"Why would I ask you to fake your own death and run off with a dangerous vampire?"

"To protect me from something worse?"

"I can only imagine."

"Yeah, but wait- Faith's on the bad guy team." Xander reminded them.

"That poor girl!" Joyce said sharply.

"Mom, you don't know..." Buffy shook her head.

"I don't believe any of us know." Giles corrected, but impulsively let his hand rest on Buffy's shoulder. "Sometimes there is just a voice inside that tells you when you have to protect someone important in your life."

The room was a chorus of mumbles and mutters of agreement, everyone there understood that feeling.

"Let's all sit down. Some of us had a rather late night." Giles put the aspirin to the side, suddenly feeling as though he no longer needed it.

"That sounds like a good -" The phone interrupted Joyce, but she smiled. "I bet that's someone welcoming you home."

Buffy darted toward it. "Hello?" She immediately had to hold the phone away from her ear. "Hi Jonathan. Yes, it's really me. Yes. Really, really. Um. Maybe not right now, but soon. I'm not up for visitors just yet. I just got home. What? Oh yes. I think I'm going to be okay." Buffy smiled at the people behind her, beaming mom, relieved looking Giles, Xander who was smiling like a fool, and Spike, seeming to lurk effortlessly in shadows, always seeming to position himself wherever her eyes would meet his. "I think things are going to be better than ever."

* * *

"We have never, in all our years, had this situation arise. And therefore, it is with heavy hearts that we are pressed into meting out this unprecedented punishment." Fallows summed up, after hours of deliberation, addressing all available Watchers and Council Board, handing down their decision.

"First. In the matter of Aberswyth, Robson, and Greer- oh, soon to be Robson, I see. Congratulations." Fallows smiled briefly at three people he addressed. "We find you acted in all good faith and as upholds the honor of our Council, and the sacred mission of our calling as Watchers. Ms. Greer- the skills and quick thinking you showed indicate that you have potential better suited to the field and less suited to a ledger. We'd like to assign you to an active position in Surveillance. You have one week to accept the offer or retain your current post. Please be seated."

With sighs of relief, Robson and Ginny clasped hands and sat, and Abby sank back beside them. He crossed himself before slipping his flask from his hip pocket.

"The matter of Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. We find he acted in all good faith and as upholds the honor of our Council, and the sacred mission of our calling as Watchers. He retains his position as active Watcher. Hrm. However... the matter of Rupert Giles. This board has heard new evidence from Mr. Collins regarding the Cruciamentum. The Council at this time votes that Mr. Giles' involvement was both appropriate and warranted, and that his 'fatherly affection' as it was termed by Quentin Travers, may have been the deciding factor that saved his slayer's life on multiple occasions. Therefore, we reinstate him, as Watcher to Buffy Summers."

In his seat, Quentin Travers turned a deep brick red, and forced himself to focus on thoughts of his wild card option, a Slayer that would take Lehane's place, and one day come for him, rescue him- if he was not given the death sentence immediately.

"That being said, we shall notify Mr. Giles and Ms. Summers of this, and place Mr. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce with a potential to be named at a later date, or if he so chooses, to remain Watcher to Ms. Lehane, though - well, yes, we know that's a short-lived position." Grave nods all around. From a seat in the front, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce Sr. looked murderous at having been overruled, eleven to one, regarding his son's fate. Prickles of doubt tortured him, for now he saw reproach and questioning in the eyes of his peers, and he knew it was for him, not his incompetent offspring.

"That brings us to the matter of Mr. Collins. Please rise."

Collins rose, unshaven and gaunt, already a gaunt man to begin with. Dark hair had gone gray at the temples in the space of a few days, and his eyes seemed hollow and lifeless.

"We believe you acted under orders, not through any maliciousness or impure intent. In your particular department- hrm- the removal of threats, including threatening persons, is expected. Orders are not usually questioned or delved into, for the containment of those threats."

"No, Sir." Collins replied in a hoarse whisper, staring blankly ahead.

"Be that as it may- in the case of being requested to kill a Slayer, we find you negligent for not confirming orders with another member of the Council board besides Travers. We also find the money you accepted and other various arrangements you made exceed the normal practices of someone in your department, or any department."

"Yes, Sir."

"Let me finish, Collins." Fallows said sharply, and he regretted it, for Collins was already a shadow of himself, and clearly his own guilt and remorse were turning him into a skeletal mockery of a human with no help needed from any outside source. "You are hereby stripped of your post in Threat Removal." Collins' head jerked once, as if he was at the mercy of a puppeteer making a marionette nod. "However, your full and frank cooperation, your obvious remorse, and your ample evidence have prompted the board to offer you a position in Tactics and Training."

Collins looked up, a small hint of light in each eye, hardly daring to believe it. He had been sure... well how could they not kill him? He'd killed a fellow Watcher, nearly killed the Slayer, his hand had dealt the killing blows, even if they didn't come off in her case.

"We believe that your information and skill are invaluable. You are however - er-hm- furloughed for a period of one year, during which you will remain at your residence and surrounding areas, and submit yourself to continued surveillance. If at the end of that time you feel as though you'd like to accept a position that places you behind a desk instead of active in the field, it will be yours."

"Thank you, Sir." His knees gave right out, and he sat down with a silent jar to his frame. Furloughed for a year. A year to think of what he'd done, to prepare for life in the cage of a classroom, a workshop, but never out in battle again. Purgatory.

_If I live through it... if one night I don't cave into the old ghosts that circle me... I'll take the job. No one will ever make my mistakes again, not if I can train them how to do it better._

"Finally, the matter of Quentin Travers. Please stand."

Travers stood, icily arrogant. He prepared for a long, mellifluous speech and summation, as befit someone of his rank and his power, the commanding presence he knew he still was. He looked loftily around the silent room, demure nods at some, unruffled and bored as he locked eyes with Fallows.

"You have committed the grossest crimes against this Council, ordering the death of an innocent Watcher, and Slayer, and embroiling many other innocent members of this body in your plans as you did so. You acted unilaterally, without consulting with your board members, and without full disclosure. You possess too many secrets for us to merely dismiss you, and too much valuable knowledge for us to simply end your life and cut off our access from it." Fallows continued over the rustle and murmurs his words created.

"You acted in a way that would be punishable in any court of law. We are not the law. Nor are we fully above it, as you seem to believe. You are sentenced to a life of confinement at a location known only to the board members and Security forces. There will be no appeal, there will be no early release. From this day, until the day of your death, you remain a guest of the Council you have abused." Fallows shut his book of order, and the clerk paused in typing. "This meeting is adjourned. Gentlemen," he nodded to two burly guards on either side of the condemned man, "take him to be transported."

* * *

Travers wanted to bolt as they lead him through corridor after corridor, down to the underground garage level. It'd be terribly undignified, and they'd catch him. No question of that. And that brief little sentencing- hardly a minute long! He'd suffered enough humiliation for one day. So he swallowed and said nothing. He hadn't even had time to glory in reactions. _Curse Fallows. Curse all of them. When I'm in power again- and I'm sure there are still many who consider me in power now- I'll have them removed. Quietly. Quickly. Without time time for consideration, and I'll do it in a most embarrassing way. Like they've done to me. Hustled me off, open to public ridicule, as if I were a common thief, when in reality, I am the visionary. I'm the only one who can see the situation for what it is. The tip of the iceberg. Beginning of an end. They'll bring anarchy on all of us, and when I rise again they'll realize I was right all along._

"In here, Sir. You'll be leaving soon. The contents of your quarters will be sent presently."

"Thank you, gentlemen, most kind." Travers said with a false graciousness. He was led to a gray limo, though it was hardly your standard luxury vehicle. It was more of a steel cell on wheels, with a seat for prisoners, and a seat for guards, and heavily fortified partitions between the driver and his cargo.

"One moment, please, Sir." One guard was pinning his hands in front of him, and one was snapping steel circlets around his wrists. He could feel the snap of cold metal and a burst like a shock running all the way around his hands.

"Or, surely now..." Travers frowned. Magically immune. These wouldn't come off without the incantation and a key, and no spell the wearer cast would work.

"I'm sorry. Orders. Powerful things, orders." One guard paused before pushing him into the car. "You know all about that, don't you?" He slammed the door, leaving Travers alone in the darkness.

Enclosed in the darkness, muffled in the soundproof steel, he began feeling the surges of panic and unease, finally penetrating his delusions of success.

He sank back, and groaned. Knowing this car would be soundproofed to outsiders, he allowed himself to curse heatedly in private. His eyes adjusted to the pitch black- and that was when he noticed something, a vague shadowy shape in the corner across from him.

"Hello?" He demanded.

Green flares, glowing jade almonds seared him, and the form eased forward. A caramel colored demoness with raw hunger in every inch of her, and eyes that made the interior glow like phosphorus.

"Hello. I don't b'lieve we've met. You killed my boy. I've come to return the favor."

* * *

Travers swallowed a cry and outside, his two guards stood sentry watch on the vehicle, waiting for the man's belongings to arrive. They heard nothing from inside the gray car.

* * *

"You- you're in Watcher Headquarters. You'll never get out of here."

"I don't intend to." Jezza lifted her half-dagger, half-stake, the twin of her late beloved's, and held it longingly to the flesh of her bust. "I been waitin' days to see my last moment on this planet. Just had to make sure you see yours first." The warm honey of the Creole voice wound around him, lulled him into blinking stupidly instead of screaming for help. Not that it would have mattered.

"How did you get in here?"

"Bones." Jezza dropped a handful on her lap. "They tol' me you'd be leavin', all I did was get in back first." She waved the slender fingers before her face and smiled. "No one sees me until I want to be seen. 'Specially not if they don' look for me. They don' know what you did, bad man. Not all of what you did." Her voice shook, and the fingers clenched. Bones crunched to powder and spilled onto her layers of shawls and skirts.

"I-"

"Shhh. You talk enough. Big man." She was out of her seat, kneeling near him on the wide floorboards, something scattering from her hands, things moving, always moving, a mist rising, and yet she never took her eyes from his face. "You had a deal. You'd leave us alone! He do work for you and you let my Meph come home!"

"Mephistopheles." Something clicked. The fact that realization just now shone in his eyes added insult to the rage the woman already felt. With a snarl, eyes changed from green to red, and her fangs protruded, brow ridged, pushing up the crown of delicately woven bones further into her tangled locks.

"My Meph never made it home." She let out a strangled sob of rage. Travers kicked fiercely against the door panel now, only to find his foot yanked back firmly to the floor, her talons pressing into the fabric of his trousers enough to tear them. "He made it for a second, to tell me to run! To run from you, but he did your dirty work. You- you _asasen_!"

"Your 'Meph' didn't complete the task. Nor did I come after you. His death, if he did indeed die, as you claim, is not directly related to me, but his skill when facing an opponent. So really this is simple bad luck."

She stared, and smiled slowly, a smile that was inhuman, all teeth and eyes, and could comfortably rip your head from the spine and swallow it whole. "Oh no,_ mede._ I conjure. _I _run the luck. My baby an' me, we have _all _the good luck. A happy home. Safe. Then you-" she dug her talons into the skin now, drawing blood, and looking ill that it touched her, "came an' took him from me!" She squeezed three red drops from between his leg and her fingertip, and spread it in the concoction she'd made at his feet.

Dignity be damned, he didn't want to die, he still had pawns in play! "Guards!"

"Oh, they'll come. But not until I'm finished." Something coursed through her veins, and her hands made patterns on the floor. "They'll find you sittin' here, same as you ever were." Her body swayed.

"You don't intend to..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

"Kill you? No, that'd be too good for you." The swaying was now a forceful rocking, everything she had in her was being used to pull forces through wards and barriers of good protection and white magic, for this magic was black as it gets.

"Enough of your spells and chants." Travers spat at her.

"Enough for you." The smile was gone, and the eyes bored into him. "_Reler..._" Her fingers traced a new _vévé,_ one never made before, one made with his blood. One to call a new being, not quite a Loa, something far less majestic, but just as ethereal. "_Reler..._" She called again, beckoning it, looking into his eyes.

He blinked. Something happened. Inside. Something moving in him, out of him. "What?" He gasped.

Her hands came to rest on either side of his head, rolling it in time with her own as she chanted, "_Reler... reler..._"

"What are you doing?" He gasped out. Was this what a heart attack felt like? His chest contracted in agony, and his eyes seemed to blister.

"_Reler!_" She screamed it and the car rang.

* * *

"You hear something?" A tiny, faint pinging sound came from the car's interior.

"Him screaming and banging. He doesn't like to be cuffed and waiting like a common criminal."

"You heard? He ordered Spears dead. Make it look like a suicide, he said. Told Collins he'd gone barmy. Poor thing. Innocent to the last."

"Bastard. Let him scream a bit."

* * *

"Death is too quick. Even pain, she hurts a bit, and then she's done." Jezza wept now, now that her call was done, and all that was left was to capture what was coming out of him. "Broken heart... to know he gone... the only thing you ever loved..." She was sobbing now, tears making the reddish sand into clay, "You make him fight for you, but he was fightin' for me! For home!"

"You... are demons." Travers gasped out, wondering why he hadn't fainted by now, because the pain was steadily increasing, and wondering no one was coming to help him.

"We were in love!" She snapped her fingers, stained with the sand, his blood, and her tears. She yanked his gaze down into the design she'd drawn. The symbol for a loa, yes, but not a deity, not a spirit to call forth to ride you, but rather one created to be ridden. One called to bear those in flight.

"I don't want your life... I want your soul." Jezza hissed, and watched the almost invisible strings of his being slipping from his eyes, into the pattern. "I make you a servant for the loas themselves, a permanent cheval, loa for loas. You go on an endless journey, the cheval for any damned souls in flight."

He made a strangled noise, thoughts whirling, panic, pleading, fear, everything spiraling out of him and he could do nothing to hold onto it. His world was ripped away. Like he'd ripped away the worlds of so many others.

"No..." He managed to beg.

She had no mercy. "Don't ask me to save you. God knows," She watched the eyes turn black, "even a demon has more soul than you."

Jezza pushed him back against the seat now. The eyes were vacant, two black, staring holes, limp, slack face, loose muscled body, lolling and sagging. The heart still beating. A living zombie.

None of it helped. Revenge didn't help. Satisfaction- there was none. She sniffed in and scraped the mess from the floor and his clothes and face into her shawl and skirts. Whatever was on her when she went, that would be nothing but ash. She wanted them to wonder. Like she had wondered.

"I'm comin', Meph." Jezza felt herself going into a trance, putting herself in it, letting herself be taken over, or in this case, overtake. A soul forced to do her bidding. In this case, to be ridden through the depths of the underworld and never stop until she found her mate. She hoped for her sake it would be a quick ride.

The jeweled skull fit into her palm perfectly, after days of pointless clutching. The stake honed in over a broken heart, and she smiled peacefully at last. "Take me to him." She whispered, and plunged.

* * *

They found him non responsive ten minutes later, with only dead black holes where eyes belonged, a fine sprinkling of white ash beside him.

* * *

_Late evening, Pacific time..._

"I didn't expect to see you here." Giles opened his door to find Buffy standing alone on his doorstep. "Willow just left. I understood there was a party at the Bronze to welcome you home?"

"Yep." Buffy nodded, beaming. "No one believes that 'head injury' story though. They think I was secretly battling another big evil thing."

"Weren't you?" Giles raised one perfectly aquiline brow and motioned her inside.

"Guess so." She shrugged.

"Willow just left. She said something about cake and pointy hats?"

"Oh, not pointy hats." Buffy winced, but laughed. "Aren't you coming?"

"I thought perhaps you- um- I thought perhaps you-"

"You aren't getting out of wearing the hat." Buffy said with mock severity. "Plus, you and I have serious welcome homing to do." She hugged him hard. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you thank you! Mr. Behind-the-scenes- pulling- the- strings-master-planning guy!"

"Ooof!" Giles clutched his solar plexus as she let him go. "You're very welcome. I do believe that we make a good team."

"The bestest." Buffy bounced on her toes. "So, come on. Club clothes. I know you own jeans."

"Ah Buffy, I wanted to do a little more book work before I devoted myself to frivolity for the evening."

"Frivolity? What's that, Calvin Kline for librarians?"

"I'm beginning to have grave doubts about your SAT reading scores." Giles paced around his desk, shifting papers, moving a book or two. "Willow was over."

"You keep saying that. I didn't just come to see Willow, I came to see you!"

"That's very sweet of you, Buffy. Where's Spike?"

"Butcher shop and then he's going to visit some of his old hang outs. Hear demon-y scuttlebutt." Buffy prepared to defend him. She preempted it. "He's not going to bite anyone, okay? If he bites people, I have to stake him, and then we both lose, and we're both way too competitive for that. You should see us play chess. We're turning it into a bloodsport. You'd need a helmet." She babbled.

"Buffy, I'm sure Spike is doing just what he told you." Giles was sure. It was an odd sensation, this semi-trust for Spike, but he'd been carrying it about with him for a month, and then it had strengthened when Spike stopped doing the job for a price, and was clearly doing it out of some intrinsic motivation. Still unsettling, and he doubted he'd ever get used to him.

This one did seem to have have staying power, though, more than could be said for the other. And able to perform small miracles, apparently. "What was that? He persuaded you to play chess?" Giles looked shocked.

"I know, he doesn't look like the chess playing type, but he's good at it."

"My incredulity was less about him and more about you. Buffy!" He dodged a playfully thrown pillow as she sat on the couch. He joined her, leather case from inside his desk retrieved and on his lap, along with a book. "May I speak now?"

"Man, if this was you not speaking-" Buffy caught the serious expression on his face and fell silent. "Yeah, sure. I'm listening. Speak away." She mimed zipping her own lips and gestured for him to begin.

"With everyone welcoming you home today, Xander, Willow, and I decided to make ourselves scarce, give others a chance." Buffy nodded. "I believe Xander ventured over to his parents' to see his uncle and do laundry- and thank heavens for that. But Willow came over here to help me look up a few things about Menfra's Eye." He opened the leather box and held out the glittering gold and green creation. The stone didn't gleam with power, but appeared like any other piece of jewelry.

"Wow... pretty." Buffy allowed herself to whisper, taking it from him.

"Indeed. Now, I knew a lot of the basics about this piece, but I hadn't planned on using it. It's a rare collectible, a curiosity, and doesn't have a lot of occasion for use." He flipped through the book. "But I figured I'd best know everything I could about it before passing it on."

Buffy's face lost the admiring sheen and turned guilty and sorrowful. "What good is it going to be? He wasted it on me."

"Wasted!"

"No, not like that! I know he doesn't think he wasted it, but..." Buffy caressed the gold oval longingly, "if you could hear how much she hurts sometimes. If you could hear him talk about what it's like inside her head."

"She seemed quite whimsical and pleased when I observed her." Giles muttered bitterly.

"For most of the time, yeah, she's happy nutso gal. But she can't ever love anyone. She can't ever really grieve and mourn and move on, either. Demons are supposed to do that, Giles."

"Love?"

"No. Well, yes, sometimes, but move on, yes. Angelus made sure she was the most broken she could be when he turned her. To keep her insane forever, and never- never let her deal." She shook her head. "He's a sick bastard, you know?"

"Oh, yes. I know."

"And did you know vampires are half human?"

Giles blinked. "Did you truly hit your head?"

"I'm serious! They're more human than you think! They can live like demons, or live like humans, but they're really a big blob of both, and if you live with one for a month you get to see it up close and personal!"

"Alright, I believe you." He soothed.

"Spike isn't all 'Now I'm human, now I'm vampire.' He's just himself. I am really finding a whole new appreciation for men without split personalities." _Because Angel is good, and he's very, very good, and Angelus just needs to get killed. Soul or not, Spike's a jerk, but he's a jerk who's pretty consistent. And sometimes not much of a jerk, either._

While she was having her inner soliloquy, Giles was putting pieces together. He smiled and closed her fingers around the jewel. "You admire that about him? Because he helped you achieve it in yourself."

Buffy looked startled. "Did he tell you that?"

"No one told me. I just watched you."

"It's true." She admitted. "I don't feel so much like I have Slayer Buffy and Normal Girl Buffy waiting to take turns anymore. Now we're- there is no more 'we'. I'm just me."

"I thought so." The way she stood up to her mother... the strength of Slayer, with all the emotion of a woman in love. Blended.

"Smarty-Watcher."

"It is my sacred calling to be observant. As well as- hrm, smart." His fingers lingered on hers, and they shared a smile.

"Beautiful moment aside, he earned this, and it's broken."

"Not broken, simply not recharged, and that leads me to the research. Look." He held out the book, pointing excitedly.

"Giles, that's in- what _is_ that in? Not English. I can't read that."

"Ah. Latin and Etruscan. Yes, well the point of it being that this tells of how Menfra's Eye was used to cure those with 'brain fevers', born with some mental defect, injured in battles, and," he flipped a page, "poisoned."

"Poisoned?"

"Willow thinks it won't take years and years to regenerate, as I had told him. Oh it will take a year or two, but not ten or twenty. Your brain was affected, yes, but by a toxin. Menfra's power cleansed it, removed the poison. But it didn't alter your entire state of being. It was like healing an injury, not systematically treating a disease. That is the hope anyway. It's not much to go on, but I thought it would help you and Spike have less- well, have less conflicted feelings."

Buffy's stomach clenched and she nodded. Less guilt, yes. Less conflicted? Not so much. "That's great." _He thought he had to make a choice, one or the other, one sane, one crazy, unable to love him. What if he has to choose between two people who both love him, on who made him immortal, one who was with him for a century? Broke his heart on and off for a century What if she wants to fix it? _

_ He would give her a chance. He would have to, he's wanted this for so long. _

_ I guess we have until the Eye kicks back in. A year or two? Better than nothing_.

"Buffy?" Giles reclaimed her wandering mind.

"Huh?" Buffy looked at him in surprise, as if she'd forgotten he was there.

"I've been thinking about this situation. Your decisions regarding Spike."

Buffy shook her head vehemently. "You can stop. I want him, Giles." _That sounds all lusty. But I do want him. I choose him. Want him here. _"I want him with me."

Giles nodded, hiding a flicker of a smile. "As wrong as it seems, Buffy, I am comfortable with that."

Buffy continued, voice raising as she passionately defended her choice. "I'm the Slayer, and I know in myself what is- what did you say?" His words sank in and erased the rest of hers.

"Angel walked away from you for nothing other a selfish desire to preserve himself." Buffy opened her mouth, but he held up his hand. "No, I know if he'd turned he'd have hurt you too. He did it for you in that aspect. But in another respect- I was desperate to shield you and save you. I needed someone who could equal you in terms of defenses to give you a chance. A fighting chance to save your life and protect you, run with you, defend you. He wouldn't do it."

_Like I don't know that? I thought about it so much I wore a groove in my brain, and now I can't even bear to think about it for one more second. I would have done anything for him, and I did. Stupid, dangerous, painful- I didn't just think about doing it, I _did_ do it. Sucks to love like that, and find out the other half has a cutoff point somewhere way before yours. _Buffy blinked and her mouth tightened. Wiping at her eyes hastily with her sleeve, she tried to silence him. "Giles, please-

He ignored her, because he knew what she was worried about him saying, and he had no intention of continuing on that path. "Spike came to me out of respect for you. He wanted nothing to do with you outside of that. I offered him the Eye of Menfra as a way to cure the woman he loved. A woman who had hurt and betrayed him, but yet he loved her enough to work for her cure."

"He's not all bad, Giles." Buffy whispered.

"Oh no. But he wasn't doing it for the sake of a pure and noble love. He was being selfish."

She put her hands to her head. "I'm sorry, are we Pro-Spike or not tonight?"

He didn't want to answer anything so simply. He wanted her to see what he meant. "He wanted her to be better- but was it so that he could have another chance with her? Wasn't that the goal? Not so much her health but her love restored?"

"No! See, he even told me, even if she never looked at him again, he wanted to buy her peace. She was hurting sometimes, even though we always thought vampires don't feel pain the same..." Buffy looked at the cold piece of gold in her hand. "He did want her back. But even more, he wanted her better."

A small smile fastened itself to his distinguished face. "Yet when you were the one he needed to make better, and we had nothing else to use, he didn't hesitate to give this to you. I told him, you know. Before I used it. That it wouldn't work anymore, that the contract between us would have lost the terms. Protecting you wouldn't bring him anything."

Buffy nodded, turning it over and over again. She knew that. She knew it from Spike's rapid, 'not really wanting to talk about it' description of what had transpired. Hearing it from Giles worked a raw spot in her heart, somehow connected right to her eyes.

"He wanted you to live. He wanted you alive, no matter how it changed his plans, no matter the cost to himself, or even the cost to _her _." He gave her a melancholy smile. "I wish I could say the same for our 'good vampire', the hero, the one with the mission of redemption. But Angel cares about_ his _mission, more than yours. Even if yours is simply staying alive for the moment."

She knew that. It hurt to hear anyone else point it out all the same. "He helped us." She looked down, working to control her suddenly overflowing eyes.

"Because it's part of what he does. Spike helped you even if it meant going against everything in him! Spike will move heaven and earth for you, and never look back, never stop trying." He tilted her chin up. "I think you would do the same."

It came out as a wet, shaky whisper he read in her eyes more than heard in her lips. "I love him."

He removed his hand from her chin and put it on her arm, giving her a little shove. "Then you'd better get moving. Have a wonderful time, but don't dance until dawn. Your boyfriend's got a very fair complexion."

* * *

Spike loved watching this, enjoyed it with a mixture of pride and amusement he'd never experienced. He watched from the shadows this time. She tried to pull him in, but he wanted to watch her hero's welcome from the sidelines. He enjoyed watching her flush and fluster when _no one_ bought the story of her disappearance.

"You? Running _away_ from danger?" One of her former fellow students shook his head and hugged her enthusiastically. "The Class Protector?"

"Well... you know me. Um. Protecting. You can get hit on the head." Buffy stammered.

"Yes, frequently." Giles murmured in passing.

"It wouldn't make you run away though. Nothing would."

"Nothing will anymore." Buffy looked past him, towards the white-blonde figure nursing amber fluid out of a glass, pale lips wrapped sinfully around the edge. "Everything I need is right here."

The guy followed her gaze. "The goth dude?"

"More like Victorian Punk." Buffy answered thoughtfully. "Thanks for coming." Her body followed her eyes' lead, and Spike grinned up at her, his own eyes knowing and teasing.

"Someone miss me?" He began as she neared the edge of his table.

"Yes! You know I-"

A flying form in designer clothes came out of nowhere and wrapped Buffy in a strangling hug. "You're alive! I saw the news and then I called Audrey to find out what was happening, and of course, this was like the _only_ thing happening, because, hello! One horse town. _So_ not like L.A., which by the way, to drive here from there uses like -a whole tank of gas, but I don't care because you're not dead!"

"Hi Cordy. Nice to see you, too." Buffy giggled and smiled over the brunette's shoulder as Spike rolled his eyes.

"Intercepted again." He whispered and knew she heard. He winked and slid off his chair, leaving her squashed against the brunette.

"Um. You do know you're hugging me, right?"

"I know! Weird, right? I'm not a hugger, usually, but I made an exception. I totally hated it when you were dead." Cordelia pushed her back and straightened her clothes and smoothed her hair while smiling widely.

"Yeah. It screws up your summer."

"Right!" Cordy stood back, crossed her arms and gave her a critical look. "Aside from the hair, the dark circles, dry skin, and some serious manicure needs, you don't look like you had too bad. So, what really happened?"

"Uh. About that- I thought Xander called and talked to you?" Buffy said evasively, looking around furtively.

Cordelia waved her hand dismissively. "He tried, yesterday, I think. I was getting another call from my agent, so..."

"Ah. Priorities."

"Well, he didn't say 'Buffy's alive!', or I would have put my agent to hold."

Buffy grinned and laughed softly. "That's love."

"I knew you'd understand." Cordelia gave her a final brief hug.

* * *

He smoked in the balcony, and watched the sea of people on the dance floor, drinking whiskey like he didn't really want to be sticking a straw in some tasty young thing down there.

_Look at her. Like the sun's back, all the little flowers bloomin' around her._ She sparkled, and the sadness was out of her eyes, the hunted look gone from her face.

_That's what a Slayer is supposed to look like. Knows she's the goods. _My _goods._

The dreamy smile left his face as she switched from dancing with the giggly red head, waving at the shrimpy little guitarist, then swaying between the boy and a crowd of kids in lettered jackets. The champion.

A snide little voice whispered inside his head, _You expect to fit into all this? The jocks, the wannabe bands and this sorry club, her gooey little friends, her_ mother_? _

He turned away from the crowds._ Well, I'm not gonna leave. I love her. I'll _have_ to bloody well fit. She loves me. Wants me here. _

Watched her smiling and spinning under lights, all the gold, diamond, and emerald highlights he'd always seen in her, shimmering and glinting.

_Such a bright beauty. Effulgent._

He silently slunk down the backstairs of the balcony, and outside, recalling how all the truly glorious lights in his life seemed to go out around him, and trying to hope that this fire, painful to kindle and made up of long smolders and sudden flares, would keep burning.

* * *

Her eyes were no longer hunted, but they were hunting. "Where did Spike go?"

"I haven't seen him." Willow shouted over the amplified sound of the Dingoes.

"You trust him, right?" Xander did not, and he looked around worriedly.

"He isn't going to hurt anyone!" Buffy hit his elbow. "Not in the 'grr! vampy" way. Maybe punch a couple people. But only if they deserve it!"

"Can we get his definition of 'deserves it' sometime?" Willow bit her lip. "Not that- that we're worrying. Or saying -um- Xander?" She called on him to bail her out of the verbal hole she was digging.

"I have to go back and disagree with the 'not worrying' part. I'm worrying."

"Guys, stop! I just wanted to know where he was." Buffy looked annoyed. Her friends sobered immediately.

"Sorry, Buffy."

"We'll look for him, Buff. He stands out. Like a platinum billboard. We'll find him in ten minutes." Xander put his arms around the girls and briefly reveled in his friendship sandwich. "I was way more worried I'd never do this again. Way more than I'm worried about Fang."

"Spike." Buffy leaned her head to one, then the other. "I don't want this to be like Angel."

"A-to-the-men!" Xander cried emphatically.

"I mean,he wasn't exactly.. fun. Not that I think fun is the most important! i'm mature." She felt Willow pinch Xander behind her back to keep him quiet. "I'm more mature, okay? But Angel never really made with the joining in. Or the smiling. In public, anyway. He was... kinda moody." Buffy was forced to admit with the awkward realizations of hindsight and letting go.

"Broody." Willow added.

"Silent." Xander tossed on.

"_Serious_ issues with happiness."

"In comparison, Spike is a cheery party animal."

"I know!" Buffy stopped the back and forth of her friends as she pushed through the crowd, nodding and smiling. "I thought he'd love this. He loves concerts. He used to go to them all the time."

"He does? He did? H-hey, we can still do that. We can double! Oz has tickets to an all day jam band fest in August."

"That's great, Wills. You guys can go rollerblading at the pier, too." Xander rolled his eyes. "The three of you and a bucket of ashes."

Willow blushed. "Oh. Yeah."

Buffy ignored them and kept working her way out of the packed party on the dance floor. "This is different for us, I guess."

"He stalked the Bronze all the time." Willow pointed out.

"Looking for food. Maybe he got the munchies-"

"XANDER!"

"-so he left to avoid temptation!" Xander finished in an injured voice. "I was defending the guy!" He winced and seemed to suddenly choke. "I can't believe I'm saying this stuff! Ugh." Another wince and swallow. "Chili fries are only good in one direction."

Buffy let out a low, miserable moan. _I'm happy to be back home! Home means all of them. But it also means he's with me. It doesn't have to be all the time. But he could at least say goodbye before he goes. _Her heart thudded uncomfortably. _Say goodbye before he goes. Unlike someone else who disappeared from my life._ She moaned again, sparking her friends into babbling supportively.

"Maybe he ran out of cigarettes."

"Maybe he didn't want to interrupt."

"Maybe he's walking down the street and punching the parking meters to see how many quarters he gets back." Giles appeared behind them with a puzzled look between his three young friends. "Honestly, Buffy you just told me how sure you were of him."

"I am!" _Except when in the back of my mind I'm wondering if when I give him what he earned, he'll decide to leave. Not because he doesn't love me, but because he never quits. Never stops fighting, and he was fighting so hard to make her better.._ Everything she and Giles talked about, every confidence she felt still sagged slightly under the weight of years of love gone wrong.

Giles, slightly tipsy on good news and several whiskeys, persisted."What happened to the girl who told us all off yesterday?"

"She's had a busy week." Buffy sighed. "Have fun guys. Everything's fine, I just want to see what's up, I guess."

"Be careful." Three instantaneous cautions.

"I will. I'll be back in in a couple."

Giles watched her walk away, then excused himself to trot after her. "Be alert. You haven't patrolled, well, not that this is a patrol, but-"

"Giles. Spike is out there. That means this town is as safe as it gets, at least for me." She smiled up at him, a smile that was small and worn out. "I'm safe. With him." In spite of her doubts, she still believed that, felt it, and it left a stead calm in her eyes.

Giles shook his head bemusedly. _Such implicit trust in him. She must have a good reason. I have reasons of my own, reasons I told her. The tireless hunter. He'd pursue her to the end of the world. Ordinarily, that would make me furious. Right now, it makes me see he's the only one in the world who stands a chance to keep up with her. _"It's like that, is it?"

_For now. And probably forever._ "He has my back, after all."

* * *

_Day Thirty, just after midnight..._

He heard her soft steps before he turned to face her. "Hello, Cutie."

"Don't call me that." She responded automatically.

"Hello, Sexy. Like that better?" He teased and punched another meter, then caught a shower of coins.

"Mindless vandalism? You do realize you are seriously not at your criminal best, right? All I had to do was follow the quarters. You're like Hansel and George-el with silver bread crumbs."

"D'you know that's not really such a cute little ditty, Slayer?"

Buffy winced. "Believe it or not, yeah. I found out I prefer my stakes slaying- sized, not witch-burning size. Even though I did manage to kill a demon with one of those, too." She made a face and shuddered at the memory.

Spike's dark brows lifted. "Tell that one to me sometime soon."

"Will do."

She smiled, and he smiled back. For a second, it had been easy between them, nothing complicated, two people who enjoyed each other's warped sense of humor.

"So... whatcha doin' out here, instead of in the Bronze?" Buffy asked nonchalantly.

Spike shrugged and pushed a handful of quarters into his jingling pockets. "Stir crazy. No action for a few hours, now that the job's done."

Buffy paused in mid step, then took a quick hop to catch up. "Job's done." She repeated. She cleared her throat and dug into the tight pocket on the inside of her jeans, nudged aside the stake in her waistband. She held out a silk wrapped bundle. "Time to get paid."

Spike cocked his head and frowned at what she offered. "You keep that. Not gonna work, is it? An' it's a bit gaudy for me." He teased, flicking open the cover, seeing the gold eye with the glittering stone in the center.

"It'll work someday, just not right now." Buffy swallowed. "I was talking to Giles and he-"

"He told me, Luv, he warned me. Once every couple decades. He's not a bad bloke- although sounds like he wasn't lily-white in the past. I could get to like him." Spike pushed her hand back to her side. "You know I got what I wanted." His smile was soft and crooked. "Saved you. Wasn't too late to save you."

Buffy swallowed, feeling hot, sweet tears prickling under her lids, but smiling them away. "It's not to late to save her, either." She whispered. "The Eye will work again, and it's going to be sooner than we thought. We think."

Spike's scarred brow arched, then lowered skeptically. "Come again, Slayer?"

"Yeah, how about that." Buffy stared at it instead of at him. "Giles and Willow had a research spree. I guess they couldn't take more than a couple days off without getting all bookish." Buffy gave a nervous laugh. "It'll still take awhile, years maybe, but not like twenty or however long he said at first. Looks like when the Menfra lady heals you by taking the poison out of your brain, it's not on the same level as doing a complete system overhaul. Or something like that."

"Meanin' she had days of damage to fix, a dose of demon juice to sort out, not decades worth of torment to erase." Spike's eyes were also focused on the glittering gem in her hand. "It'll be back in workin' order pretty soon. Relatively speakin'. A couple years, maybe?"

"Maybe. A year or two. These things really ought to come with some sort of timetable." Buffy risked a look up at him, saw the deep, intent stare he was giving it.

"What's a couple years when you don't plan on dyin'?" _I can still do it. Maybe it'll take longer than I thought, but I can still- What is it I'm gonna do exactly? _

"Um. Yeah. I guess it's like a couple months to you. Weeks even." Buffy murmured.

He sucked in the midnight air and let it come out slowly, only half-hearing her. He'd known for days, even weeks, the longer he spent with her, the more they talked... Little pieces, little doubts that he kept having, that she kept giving him, everything adding up, until he suddenly knew the fine line between wanting to heal Dru, and wanting to "fix" her. He studied the night sky that he so often watched with his dark goddess. "I miss her. I'm not gonna lie."

"I- I know. You told me." _You told me other things, too._ Her heart gave a rebellious ache, but she fell silent as he kept speaking

"She goes back to her old family place- what's left of it- every few years. Stops and sees the old church she was plannin' to take her orders in. Angelus burnt it to the ground, but they built it up again."

"Okay... I'm not following. You told me she loved going to old churches, but-"

"She gets an urge and off she goes. Sometimes she eats a nun. Sometimes she just lights candles. Always visits the family graves. I think she set fire to the vestry once, but-"

"Spike! I'm starting to think _you_ need this doohickey! Why are you telling me all this?"

"Thinkin' aloud. Sorry, Luv. Vamps move around a lot, an' I'm tryin' to think of one place I can leave it for her where she'll definitely get it- and she'll be the _only_ one that gets it." He finally took it from her hand, closed his own around it, and heard the incantation whispered in his head, just like the Watcher said he would. "It's mine. I'll give it to her. Maybe get one of those Watcher johnnies to deliver it. Or Rupert himself. He'll probably be going back to merry old England before I do. Like I told you, I like California." He gave her a significant glance.

The ache in her heart muted, and surged into sort of a numb, questioning throb. "I thought maybe you weren't- maybe you weren't ..." Words wouldn't come. "Maybe you weren't." It was the beginning to so many sentences, and he knew her surprisingly well, she'd let _him_ fill in the blanks.

He knew the rest. _"Maybe you weren't going to stick around after you found out you had a fast track back to Drusilla. Maybe you weren't happy here. Maybe you weren't in love with me, maybe you weren't so sure now that the adrenaline and adventure is over with. Maybe you weren't doing it for me, maybe all of this, even the loving part, was just a substitute for Drusilla." Stupid girl_. "You're blind, Slayer. You know once I start somethin', it takes a hell of a lot to make me stop it."

"I know. I know everything we said. Then you left tonight and it reminded me of other people who decided to leave without saying goodbye."

He scowled and snarled instantly. "I oughta slug you for comparin' me to that - that big hulkin' forehead with a vamp underneath!"

"You never acted like him before! Right until tonight." Buffy protested.

"An' I will never act like him. _Ever._" He reminded her hotly.

"Good! Because as much I loved Angel, I suddenly realized he used to do things I really hated."

"Well, I didn't do it! I didn't leave the place without sayin' goodbye, like I wasn't comin' back! I went for a bloody stroll!"

"I wanted you to be with me! You kept slinking off! I didn't push you away, and you don't have to go brood over your dark past and atonement-filled fate like-"

"Don't you bloody dare!" He hissed violently.

"I wanted you with me!" _I always want you with me! I chose you, in front of everyone. Please don't let this end like Angel and me, like him and Dru. We can get through all the battles, all the time alone, but we can't make it work in "real life"? _"I hardly saw you tonight."

"I saw you plenty! Dancing and sparkling. Everything bright in this world, all you." _Love and smiles and sunshine. Sounds like a bloody hippie, but they were smart to want that stuff. I want that. I want her. The way she dips her head when you tell her the simple truth, that she's beautiful. Like she doesn't know it._ His features softened. _All that power and just enough soft stuff inside to make her damn near perfect for someone like me. Soft and hard collide- oooh._ He swallowed a lustful image and continued to explain. "I wanted to let you have your homecomin' with all your little mates, not havin' to stop every three minutes and say, 'Oh, let me introduce Spike, the anonymous gentleman with a suspicious lack of reflection who rescued me in my fake story. You may recognize him from the times he terrorized your neighborhood, school, or local business.'."

"I wanted to-" She paused. "Oh. That was- thoughtful." She said hesitatingly, torn between realization and remembering.

"Don't sound so thrilled, Luv, a bloke can only take so much admiration." Spike snorted sarcastically at her unconvincing comment.

"It's sweet. From _you_. It's also what Angel did. That 'I can't be with you, you're normal and must lead a happy normal life, which I can never be part of.' thing."

"Wanker." He huffed.

"Whatever. It made me worry. 'Cause now you have a chance to get what you really want, and you don't have to wait much longer to- _oooo_!" Buffy let out a startled screech as Spike finally gave up on words and tried actions, tackling her in a struggling push, walking her back into the alley between two darkened stores, then kissing her hard and relentlessly. Best thing in the world, she kissed him back.

"I'm not going anywhere." He promised for the hundredth time.

She believed him... yet, it's hard for the savior to deal with being saved, especially at a price to someone else. "I didn't want you to have to choose between saving me and helping her in the first place! I don't want you to leave, but I didn't- I don't know, I didn't want to make you unhappy, either."

"You make me very, very happy. Annoyed, brassed off, violent, and happy. And other things." He rubbed pointedly against her, and let her claw her way over his lean chest and shoulders, to pull herself up his waist and lock her wrists behind his head for another bout of kissing. "All good things."

"Annoyed and violent are good?" She couldn't help but laugh breathlessly as he worked his mouth down over her neck.

"With you, yes." He nipped her throat and wondered about the logistics of a hasty back alley bedding. Hm. Maybe on another night. When the entire teenage population wasn't going to be passing by on the way out of the club, overhearing the recently resurrected Slayer screaming. Last thing he needed was a mob scene walking in on a shag.

_Hm. But she's so pretty when she blushes..._

"You better put me down. I don't know what you're thinking-"

"Yes, you do." He obeyed and let her drip down him slowly.

"But I know it better wait until we get home." A happy chill shot along her spine. _Home. _

_Home. Dru an' I never had a home. We had nests and places to hide and sights to see and destroy, and the whole bloody world was our palace. Never did feel like home though. _"Gonna find someplace in town." He mentioned casually, slipping his hands down her sides as they parted bodies.

"Good." Buffy whispered, and side stepped him, tucking herself under his arm automatically as he fell into step with her. "I am sorry though. About- things that didn't work out for you, about you not getting to help her right away. Happy for me. Sad for you."

"Hm. Thanks, Pet, you're a sweet one."

"Not so bad yourself."

They walked several steps in silence.

"You're not talking. I've come to associate that with you planning to shoplift stuff or start beating me up." Buffy rocked her hip to bump his and he laughed.

"Not plotting. Thinking."

"That's worse sometimes." She teased.

"Shut up." He pinched her rear affectionately, and reached into his pocket, absently rubbing the talisman he'd worked so hard for.

She waited. "Remember when we didn't have anyone else to talk to?"

"Before we learned the joys of the Spanish channel?"

"Yeah, then. Talking to you wasn't so bad..." She nudged him.

He gave in. Had no trouble giving in and opening his mouth, his trouble had always been with keeping it shut. "Was just thinkin'...you know what's funny, Luv, in a way that makes you cry, not laugh?" He did laugh, once, short and ruefully, "Much as the Eye'd help her, I wonder how much it'd hurt her?"

"You'd never hurt her." Buffy said with depths of loyalty she didn't even know she felt.

"Never meant to." He tore his eyes from the spread of stars and down to her sweet face. "She'd miss her fairies and her dollies and listening to her cherubs burn and shadows speak."

"Wouldn't she still have visions? Is that part of being 'crazy'?"

"I dunno. They've always been a part of _her_, crazy or not, since she was young, before she'd even heard of Angelus." Her face twitched in a mirror of his. "You know what'd it be like to have someone try to take away somethin' you always knew, always had as part of you."

Her strength. Her Chosen One's right. Drugged it, crippled it, brought under rule, tried to be replaced. She'd never asked for it, a lot of the time she didn't want it- but it was hers and now it _was_ her. It didn't come with a side of murder and torture, though. If it had, maybe it'd be better to erase it. "I guess it might be worth the risk. To her."

"Yeah, but I don't _know_ that." He shook his head and cursed himself for being deluded for so long. "I thought I was doin' it purely for her, and now I think maybe I was doin' it mostly for me. Like you said."

"Hey, I'm stupid about stuff! You tell me that all the time."

"This time you were right. I didn't want to heal her so she'd be better, even though I know it'd help her. That's about half of it. The other half- it'd be for me,_ more_ for me, to get her back. My Drusilla. But she'd be a different person, maybe she wouldn't even like me anyway."

_I did say that. I don't know if it's true. Heck, _I _liked him after a couple weeks. she'd probably like him in a couple days. Or seconds._ Her hand found his, and then traveled up the sleekly scuffed leather, to gently come to rest on his back. _I'm here_. "I think she would."

" 'Preciate the sentiment, Slayer." He shook his head ruefully. "But a smarter bloke might've realized the bloody great holes in that plan before he almost got himself killed by sheer air-headedness and big nasties. Realized that after a century of it never feelin' quite right, that it wasn't gonna _be_ right, no matter what you do to it."

"People can change."

"They can, Pet, but they oughta be the ones makin' the choice. It doesn't matter to me anyway." He shook her hand off so that he could face her squarely, smiling in a relaxed way, with tinges of sadness underneath. "I'd do it a hundred times over, all of it, 'specially the last bit." He circled his thumbs on her shoulders gently. "It wasn't too late for you. An' I wasn't changin' you, or makin' you over for me. I was jus' bringing you back to yourself."

"You- you don't know what would happen with Drusilla, either. Maybe this would be bringing her back to herself. A self she didn't even... know... hm."

"You tried, Luv." _An' that's love. Unselfish style. She's gotta get over that, it's a bad habit between us_. "You played devil's advocate, good guy style. I think I'll find her, send it to her, in the place where only she ever goes. Write her a note. I'll explain what it does, give it to her. Once it's 'given', she'll hear these little magic words, an' she can use it if she wants to. It only heals, it can't hurt, so not like she could ever hurt-" he paused and looked at the girl in front of him- "anyone with it."

Buffy nodded slowly. "It's a good plan." She murmured.

"You were right. What you told me up in Washington, maybe the second night we were hiding out? 'Happy is better than at peace'."

"We need to get that in writing. Spike says I was right about something." Buffy mumbled hazily.

"Shut up and listen, 'cause after tonight, I don't think we're gonna talk about this anymore." He said with finality.

"Shutting." Buffy pursed her lips.

"I think this was always about _me_ bein' happy and _her_ bein' at peace. Not necessarily as a set. An' like you said- happy is better. Give you all the bloody chaos in the world, you said, but give you happiness with it."

"I did say that. Not the bloody part. But I didn't know. You said... you said she's in so much pain sometimes."

"Yeah._ Sometimes_. But I don't know what's better for her, what would make her the happiest. Her dollies, her dreams, her fairies whisperin' in her ear. The thing is - I wanted to get back the girl I fell in love with. Only I'm pretty damn sure, no matter what I do, what tricks I use, that the girl I was lookin' for doesn't exist." He gave Buffy another penetrating stare. "Or maybe I wasn't sure exactly what I was lookin' for, either."

Their path brought them back to the Bronze, and they walked right past, the wails of amped basses and guitars a backdrop to the sound of their boots on gritty sidewalks.

"This is where I met you." Spike jerked his head towards the alley as they turned the corner.

"You were looking for me. You found me." _Back then. Now too._

"I been lookin' for you a long time." _Real Slayer. Real love. Really for me._

"Been looking for you, too." Buffy tightened her grip on his waist and he pulled her tighter under the grip of his arm. All they'd been through seemed in another world, and this was going to be their real life, cold, hard life with so much to consider besides him and her. But when the chips are down, sometimes you can only think in terms of "him and her". "Stay? For good?"

He hid a grin. "I'm not good."

"Then stay forever."

_She wants me to stay. Wants _me_ to _stay._ All I've ever wanted is to be in love and stay in love, and love stay with me. _He could overwhelm that little nervous smile of hers with a blown away grin and swinging her around in giddy joy- and she'd still love him. So he could afford to play it cool. "Hmm. Stayin' in Sunnyhell..." He gave her a wink as he let a half smile play across his lips. "Findin' this girl I've been waitin' for. Well, now..." He leaned down forehead to forehead. "Not exactly an easy add-in to her white hat life. Sure she's okay with that? I'm not necessarily her type."

"You're you. I want you, that strange one who doesn't make me feel strange, who has my back, and loves me like I am. Who I can just be me with and- oh Spike, geez!" The Slayer was back and tired of being cautious, tired of being good, complete with the double time heartbeat and the little push she needed to do the hardest things in life. "You are mine. You're mine, and I am yours. Forever. Or until I die, and since you're around- that isn't gonna happen for a long, loooong time. So we're calling it forever. Deal?"

_I've been waiting an eternity for this._ "Deal."

"Good."

"Perfect."

More feet scuffing. Small smiles breaking until they were replaced with wide grins that couldn't be hidden, that then gave way to laughter that couldn't be stopped.

"My girl." He swung her up and held her against the moon, with her head thrown back, laughing and pressing her hands into his shoulders. "Say it."

"I'm yours."

"Not that! The other thing."

"You're mine?"

"Slayer..." He shook her playfully once, made her squeal.

"Spike..." She bent forward, head resting on top of his.

"Say it or I'll drop you right on that pretty behind of yours." He let her fall an inch, but pulled her closer so she knew not to worry. His hands dug comfortingly into the small of her back as she cradled his head.

"Threats don't work on me, remember?" She winked, eye to eye.

"Say it and I'll never stop sayin' it back."

She'd never turn that kind of offer down. "I love you, Spike."

"I love you, Slayer. C'mon." He spun her around and set her down, now facing back towards the Bronze. "Dance the rest of the dances with me?"

"All of them." She held his hand with possessive tightness. _All mine._

"The way it should be." They squeezed through the doorway together, welcomed by a chorus of calls and waves, but she didn't leave his side, just pulled him along with her, proud to be on his arm, and nothing was going to sway her, he'd seen that for sure. "Know what, Slayer?"

"What?" She shouted over the music, leading him onto the floor, past a relieved looking trio of Giles, Willow, and Xander, into a widening, welcoming circle.

He smiled as they spun together. "I'm glad I took the job."

* * *

_ So are we all, Spike. So are we all._

_ Thank you for reading. _


	33. Epilogue: In Case You Wondered

**Offers You Can't Refuse**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_Late S. 3 AU. Buffy's only way to stay alive and expose a plot by the corrupt Quentin Travers involves staying out of Sunnydale and staying one step ahead while Giles finds a way to save her life and get the evidence to stop the corrupt Head of the Council. But who watches the Slayer's back when she's the prey? If the motivation is right, Spike will do anything to help the woman he loves. _

_Author's Note: IF YOU LIKED THE WAY THINGS WRAPPED UP in the last chapter, just STOP HERE. _

_Okay, listen, I wanted to do an epilogue that would show what happens a little bit down the line. This is equally about some of the supporting cast as well as Spuffy . Things tie up, there is happy ending- however, IF YOU LIKED THE WAY THINGS WRAPPED UP in the last chapter, just STOP HERE. I really debated about doing an epilogue, but I thought some people might like to know how things played out with Drusilla, etc. In fact, out of a reviewers' poll, the results were very much in favor of including an epilogue, so here we go._

_Author's Second Note: All time frame references have the starting point of the end of Part XXXII. Sweetprincipale, over and out_

_Dedicated to: Skeezixx, Ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, Jewel74, The Three March Hares, micmoc, Embers and Flames, Omslagspapper, Rosalea12, ValidescopeWest, Rachel, Alottalove, Cavementftw, Maire Ailbhe, Illusera, hbmckidd, mike13z50, Loverswalk89, Touch the Dark, hbmckidd, LunaML, Suzanne, KittenofDoomage, PeaceHeather, CailinRua, Neinka, cosmiclove, N172Shay, ShyL, LOVEisRealand4eva, Kathryn Merlin, Kerry2202, marty powell, Slayergirl, Beige Flicka, Seapea, Treadingthedark, SushiBar, Kika, Spike's Heart, Spit, nrs, and Tawny._

_I have no words that will adequately express how much your reviews mean to me, and since I'm a wordy sort of person, that should let you know just how much they matter. Thank you all._

_**Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. **_

**Epilogue: In Case You Wondered What Happened Next...**

**(And if you didn't, stop reading!)**

_A day later..._

"Do you mean he's in a coma? What do you mean by 'non-responsive'?" Giles demanded from Fallows, in a voice that made his hungover brain twinge alarmingly.

"Heartbeat, pulse, breathing, blood pressure- normal. But unable to speak or respond to any stimuli. Hrm. He also seems to be missing both eyes."

"Good Lord!"

"There was ash in the car. A vampire must be involved."

"Vampires can't get through the wards there, surely."

"Not ordinarily, no. But perhaps a vampire with some special powers, powerful in magic?"

"One with a grudge." Giles murmured.

"Do you have any ideas?"

"I have a few." Giles considered finding his glasses, but decided against it, lying down once more instead. Travers had made enemies on both sides of the table._ Idiot. Thinking he's some all powerful being... you'll soon find someone to challenge that notion. _ "Sounds as though someone went to an awful lot of trouble to manage this, to be undetected until after the fact. Someone who had nothing to lose." _Someone heartbroken. Someone who'd lost everything._ _A home, a mate, a whole world... _"They can love quite powerfully, you know." He had his suspicions, but he didn't bother to name names.

"Vampires? Love? Rupert, are you inebriated?"

"Not at the moment. We did celebrate her return rather a lot."

"As is warranted." Fallows cleared his throat. "I've been made Head of Council. Provisionally, of course."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you. As such- I have the authority to offer you your old position. Watcher to Buffy Summers."

His heart leapt. But recent mistrust caused him to bring it down quickly, speak sharply. "I never resigned my post, _Sir_."

Fallows conceded that with a smile. "Which makes us all the more hopeful you'll accept. With our full apologies, and full reinstatement. And a pay rise."

"You must be eager." Giles laughed in mild disbelief.

_"Travers _fired you. Not_ us_. We know what you have, and we've seen how you protected it. If you won't do it for us, do it for her."

"Heavens, Fallows, that's quite a speech. What's gotten into you?"

"Quite a lot of disappointment and the need for a liberal dose of hope. And sherry."

"I'll take the job."

"Your reinstatement papers should be there in a few hours."

"How- why you crafty bastard."

"Mr. Giles, really. A man who's never left his post should have no qualms about being paid for it." Fallows prepared to hang up the phone. "Oh, and if you'd let Mr. Wyndham- Pryce know I'd like to speak to him about accepting a new post, I'd appreciate it. We've been ringing all day, but can't get hold of him."

Giles' lips thinned. Trust was all well and good, but caution was better at this time. "I think he's out of town."

* * *

"It's a nice little town."

"I don't like 'nice little towns'." Faith huffed.

Wesley reached into the passenger seat and hauled her to a standing position. Faith clutched him and the car for support on her atrophied legs. "Then we won't stay for long. But you need to eat and we need gas. Furthermore, you need clothes. Those are covered in blood."

"I'm used to it."

"Well, I'm not." They glared, inches apart. He quirked one eyebrow. "Does it mean something horrific if a person wants you to have food and clothing? Do I get beaten up?"

She shoved him back as best she could and attempted to stand on her own two feet. She fell.

Only halfway to the ground, he snagged her up with a startled cry, and a look of such frustrated pain in his eyes. "Fine, if you want to wear that, so be it. If you want to be hungry, fine. I'm not here to force you. I'm here to help you." He let her sink back into the seat with his assistance and turned away muttering, "Some grand, helpful chap I am..."

"Wes, wait."

They both were startled. He spun too quickly, almost comically. _She asked me to wait!_

_ I called him Wes._ She sighed. "I look kinda gross, huh?"

"A bit. Better than yesterday." He encouraged.

"Are you always going to do that really annoying thing where you act like Mary Poppins and try to see the best in me?" Faith spat crossly.

"No. I'm going to always tell you the truth, and try to see you how you are. You look greatly improved from yesterday, and, if we're embracing honesty, you smell. You need a bath, and a shampoo."

She smiled lopsidedly. "That's better."

"Thank you." He gave her a half-grin himself.

He got in beside her and started the car. "I'll find a bigger city, if that makes you feel more at ease."

What would make her feel more at ease was if he suddenly turned on her and she could hit him. Or if she was strong enough to knock him out and steal the car. To find out if he was going to hurt her, or if she was going to hurt him. "Don't waste your time trying to make things nice." Faith moodily advised, closing her eyes.

"I don't think anything I do with you wastes my time." Wesley stared straight ahead and drove with a grim set to his stubbled jaw.

They'd only gone two blocks when her inborn rebelliousness found a new path. _Dammit, Faith- you smell nasty, you're starving, your wardrobe is full of dried blood and stab holes, and you're probably on everyone's hit list, bad guys and good guys. So what if he wants something from you someday? He saved your life and he wants to help you- for now, for whatever reason. _

_ You have to try. If you ever want to be anything, you have to try one more time._

"Could we stop at that hotel?" Faith asked in a flat voice, acting as if she didn't care one way or the other.

"If you like." Wesley replied in the same emotionless tone, and headed for it.

* * *

_A week later..._

"Do you like it?" Spike flung open the door of a second floor walk up apartment on the iffy side of the Hellmouth.

"It looks like that disgusting hotel we stopped at." Buffy wrinkled her nose at the peeling paint and the drab, sparsely furnished room. "Throw on some bad neon and we could be right back there."

They shared a look. Bad hotel. Shabby room. Shivering, anxious people, rough kisses, smooth hands, intense pleasure...

_Oh major wow-_

_ Bloody hell-_

_ -I love this place. _

"Dead cheap. Comes with the bed an' the telly. Close to everything you'd need. Your mum's, your school, cemeteries..." He persuaded, though he could tell he'd won the battle already.

"It's not close to all those." Buffy tried to think rationally as he shut the door behind her.

"Close for us. Way we move." His pelvis moved to emphasize his words. It rolled. It insinuated and invited. "Wanna make it home, Baby?"

"Needs heavy curtains." Buffy ran her hands longingly over his chest and stopped at the belt.

"Needs a woman's touch." He hinted, his own hands lingering on her hips.

"You know... now that I- think about it." Buffy stumbled over words, lost in a hormone, pheromone high, "I don't think it looks like that place at all. Not in the yucky, scary, depressing way."

"No, 'course not, Pet, it's just run down. Not so bad." He felt warm fingers rubbing over his cool, taut skin, untucking his shirt, prying the belt apart. "We make any place we're together worth bein' in."

She made a high, soft sound of agreement in the back of her throat.

"Maybe we can finish what we started that night?" Spike bit down softly on her neck and hinted.

"Well... we said some until someday."

"Yeah, we did."

"Spike..." She wriggled him back against the bed and his knees collapsed, leaving him sitting heavily on the side as she moved in to straddle him. "It's someday."

* * *

_A month later..._

"I'll only be gone three days. Robson and Ginny assured me you're welcome." Giles shuffled his passport, diplomatic papers, and airplane ticket as Buffy drove Wesley's car (now used by her and Spike) up to the British Airways gate.

"I have to go textbook shopping with Willow and Oz. And I have _no_ idea what to wear to an upscale, swanky British wedding. Plus, my date? Not comfy in a room full of Watchers." Buffy parked and popped the trunk.

"An excellent point. Well, be good. Xander's checking for my mail and messages-"

"And avoiding his parents at all costs again."

"That as well. Be safe, practice your mediation and focusing exercises three times a day and-"

"Listen to my mommy and don't forget to brush? I'm a big girl, Giles. Starting college next week kinda girl. Living off campus, out of the house kinda girl."

"Ah. Yes. Tell Spike I said goodbye."

"I'm sure he would have liked to come, but he and morning car rides just don't mix."

"That's right. See you soon, dear." Giles pecked her cheek as he eased out of the car.

"Giles." Buffy held onto his hand.

"Yes?"

"You're sure you'll have time? You're sure it'll be safe on the plane?" Buffy asked with wide, worried eyes.

Giles patted the small, tightly wrapped box in his breast pocket. "I'm heading there first."

"You shouldn't have any trouble. H-he said the local people think the place is haunted. Kinda is. Someone dead hangs out there every couple years, throws things and sobs for days. And breaks right through the locks like nothing."

"Vampiric strength will do that." Giles said apprehensively.

"Spike says there's a little opening though, right by the cross on the left hand-"

"He told me, Buffy, I know. It's only a few hours to the north, it's hardly out of my way. I'll let you know when it's done."

* * *

"Are you done blocking the pay phone? Other people have equally, if not more important, phone calls to make." Cordelia tapped her foot impatiently and waited for the big moose hunched in the phone booth to move. As she tapped, she reconsidered the wisdom of using her phone bill payment money to buy the new "guaranteed to get you cast" heels- which had not lived up to Margo's recommendation. _Not yet, anyway._ She had to call back the guy who'd noticed her at the party last night. Mr. Rich, Fifty-ish, and Connected. Maybe the shoes would work for her after all.

The "big moose" turned slowly, an incredulous look on his face. "Cordelia?"

"Oh my God! Angel! What are you doing in LA?"

"I uh- live here." He admitted.

"Me, too!"

That made him blink. "You do?"

"Yeah, I-" she began to gesture back a few blocks to a crummy block, and then realized she didn't really want him to know that she'd sunk so low, "live in LA now."

"Great. Uh. Yeah. Here's the phone." He moved carefully out of the setting sun and into the shadows.

"Is your phone broken, too?" Cordelia told a backhanded fib.

"What? Oh, no, I never bothered putting one in. I don't call anyone. I have a friend who brings me any information I need."

"So you were calling him?"

Angel shrugged. "I was worried about him. He hasn't come around in a couple days. He wants me to get out more, but I -"

"You don't want to, so you 'grr' ed at him, and now you're worried you scared off your only friend."

Angel squinted. "Are you psychic?"

"No..." _I just do the same thing with people._ Real _people, not acting people, not people who could get me famous._ "I have to make a phone call, sorry. Apparently you have to call this guy _right _when it gets dark, or he makes other plans for the night, and he's too busy being a big business tycoon during the day."

"Wow. Sounds... busy."

"He is!" Cordelia beamed. "And he noticed_ me_! Well, duh, why wouldn't he?" She preened and did something with her feet, which Angel just responded to with a blank stare. She continued. "He knows all the big directors, he could get me in the door of any agency in the city."

"Great. Good for you." Angel smiled as though it pained him. "It's getting dark." He looked up at the sky, and then eased into the open, no longer fearing the light. "You better call him before it's too late." He waved jerkily and turned with a nod.

Cordelia looked up anxiously at the sky and dialed as fast as she could.

"Russell Winter's residence. How may I direct your call?"

"This is Cordelia Chase. I was at Margo's party last night, and Mr. Winters- I mean, Russell, asked her to ask me to -"

"The new girl. The fresh face." The voice interrupted knowingly. "I know he wanted to see you tonight. Discuss your future."

"My future?" She almost squealed.

"Hold on a moment, I'll see what arrangements he wants to make."

Cordelia listened to some light classical hold music and stared out the glass window of the phone booth. This stretch of street was empty, except for one ambling, dark figure, bundled up in a swishing black trench coat like he was trying to hide, but he was too big to pull it off.

He looked back suddenly. From half a block away, she knew he was staring right at her, into her eyes, and she seemed to be staring right at him. He turned away, but his steps seemed heavier and slower.

_Only has one friend in this city. Not me. I have lots of friends. Margo. Well, Margo just wanted pretty girls at her mixer. But- other people in Sunnydale. _

_ I'm not in Sunnydale. Maybe I should have stayed. Buffy came back from the dead, I could come back from an acting career. But only if I have one first..._

_ So I'll get one! Russell. Russell Winters. Russell is going to open up doors to a fabulous life and-_

"Mr. Winters asks that you come to his house tonight. By seven. He'd love to have you for dinner."

"He would? Oh my gosh, that's so- hm." _Soon. And I have to change. I have to have to be able to get there. I have to- never mind how, I'll make it. _ "Of course. Seven."

"At seven. _Tonight_. This is not a standing offer, if you're not here at seven, he'll find another girl. There are dozens of pretty faces in this town, and Margo finds him a new girl every week or so."

A strange prickle ran over her spine. _So much for standing out. So much for famous. So much for _friend. _And hey- who were all these famous girls? If he was making someone famous every week, shouldn't there be some Entertainment Tonight Special, "The Girls of Russell Winters?" _ The strange prickle was turning to a bad vibe. "Sorry... I think I have a better offer." Cordelia dropped the phone into the cradle and trotted out of the phone box- and smack into his chest.

"Hey!"

"Sorry!" Angel mumbled and backed up guiltily. "I- I thought maybe you needed a ride. To this guy's house." Angel said lamely.

"I thought maybe you might need a ride to go find your friend." Cordelia didn't do anything lamely, she said it in the manner of doing him a huge favor. She held it for all of three seconds, too. "Actually- I don't think I have too much gas in my car. And I don't think I have money for a cab. And these shoes- ha- you don't walk too far in these shoes. You just admire them."

Angel cracked a smile. "My place is two blocks that way." He pointed. "I don't have a lot, but I have- I have coffee?"

"Oooh. If you'd said 'sandwiches', I'd be all over that."

"I think I got a take out menu in the mail?" He offered.

"Start walking." Cordelia linked her arm through his. "You don't bite, right?"

"Um. Not lately."

* * *

_A year later..._

"Transcripts! Second semester grades are out!" Willow charged up the stairs with three envelopes outstretched.

"Better late than never, lemme- ow, Red, give me Buffy's." Spike fended her off as she barreled into the small flat.

"Shouldn't we wait for her?"

"She and Xander won't be done shifts until five, an' I can't wait that long." He stubbed out one of the long line of chain smoked cigarettes and ripped open the envelope. "I told her I'd call her at- three point four! A three point four! What is that, a B? Solid B, init?"

"Yes! The English paper you wrote for her must've-"

"I didn't write that paper! I thought you did."

"I didn't either."

"She did it on her own! Bless her little birdbrain!" Spike roughly hugged the witch in front of him and picked up the phone. "Open yours."

"I did. Four point o. Again."

"Good on ya, Brains." He winked and dialed. "What about Tara's?"

"I'm waiting until she's done at the library. I'll go back to our dorm as soon as Buffy and Xander get off."

"Sunnydale Fitness Center."

Spike turned his attention back to the phone."Put me through to Summers."

"Ms. Summers is just finishing her self-defense class."

"Oh... fine then, put me through to Harris."

"Mr. Harris is on duty at the lifeguard station at the pool."

"I know that, lady, it's one of the few things the blighter does well, holds his beer, backs up a frontal assault, and swims like a ruddy fish."

"And give orgasms. Anya wouldn't want you to leave that off this list." Willow muttered distractedly, scanning Buffy's letter.

"I can't say I know that he does that well." Spike glared and held up a warning finger, the gesture that meant "I don't bite. But I _can_."

"Sir?"

"Oh bloody hell, never mind. Can you tell her to call home soon's she can?"

"I'll put a note on her staff locker."

"Ta." Spike hung up and turned to the girl bouncing excitedly on the second hand sofa, scanning every line and grade like reading the secrets of the universe. "Three. Point. Effin' four." He crowed.

"That means Joyce _ has_ to admit living here instead of on campus doesn't screw up her grades."

"She hasn't failed a single course."

"That's better than high school." Willow nodded. "We should celebrate."

"Yes, we soddin' should. I thought tacklin' the soldier gimps and Mr. Frankenpants the same week as finals would've dropped her right down. Bloody hell. That's a relief. Think this calls for the real red stuff."

"And on that note, I'm leaving." Willow rose hastily.

"Oh, siddown." He went to the kitchenette and made do with warmed up beef blood for the moment. "Only human blood I get these days is from one very willin' donor. An' I mean _very_."

"Hey! Rules!" Willow covered her ears and glared balefully. "We don't talk about the- the weird stuff you guys do. Abnormal stuff freaks me out."

Spike sipped his drink slowly and said nothing. "An' what you and Tara do after you study?"

Willow turned bright red.

"Thought so." He went off to perch by the phone, chuckling cockily.

_ I still wish she'd stake him sometimes_. _Just a little bit_. Willow shook her head. _But it's only been a year. Maybe by next year I'll just hope he gets paper cuts. Sure. Things take time._

* * *

"Time doesn't have wings. It doesn't fly. It rots and drags and grinds you under its wheels. Maybe time is a carriage. Or maybe time is a hearse." Drusilla whispered in a melodious, musing voice, clutching her dolly, rocking and shaking.

"M-Miss, I don't know what you want, but- but if I could just get Father Duncan for you, I'm sure-" The young woman who came to clean the church once a week was shaking as well, stalling for time, trying to figure out a way to break free from this lunatic.

"Why, Miss Edith. Your voice has changed. And how big you've grown! Have you been eating all the other little children? Naughty, naughty." Drusilla's face changed, and the woman screamed. "You didn't share... Oh, let me have seconds. Just like Daddy and Grandmum used to play at." Drusilla asked in a drifting, playful voice, acting as if she couldn't hear the screams, eyes a glinting gold as they changed from soft and confused to suddenly hard and predatory. "Do. Do give me seconds..."

The scream died abruptly.

* * *

Drusilla looked down when she was full, face changing, demon sleeping.

A beautiful, dark haired girl, late teens or early twenties, lay pale and unmoving on the stone flagged floor of the church.

"Sophie?" Drusilla quavered, dropping to her knees. "_Sophie_!" Her sister. Her sweet, innocent sister. Dead. This church- oh he came and he tortured and he murdered and she saw... she saw such horrors. All done here.

And Sophie. Sophie and Annie and Mummy. Done elsewhere. So she'd come here. The Sisters of Mercy. Saints had suffered, and with her pure heart, and her visions, the hand of God upon her, she would be a saint...

She turned the body gently. Dead, glassy eyes, deep red gouges in her neck.

_He turned me into a devil._

_Oh God... Oh Father in heaven, have mercy upon me a sinner..._ Drusilla made the sign of the cross, as her eyes overflowed, and the demon snarled and silenced her. Her fingertips burned and she heard her Daddy's voice. Not her Father. Not her Heavenly Father. Her Dear Daddy, with a rasping, malicious Irish brogue.

_"Heaven won't take you now. You'll roast in hell when we're done with you. But we won't be done for a long time yet."_

And that was when they'd started on her. Defiling her. Making sure she knew just how impure and unholy she was and now would always be- once they turned her.

Drusilla ran blindly out of the church. One hundred and forty years to the day had passed, and yet it seemed like no time at all.

"Mummy! Father! Sophie, Annie, please. Please wake up. I'm all alone now and I don't like the dark anymore." She stumbled through graves and uneven ground, running to a small stone crypt, until she could press her cheek to the cold doors.

"You're not dead. You can't be. I'm- I'm not dead, see?" She ran her hands over the doors longingly. "I touch. I sing. I cry. Not really dead. Not really gone. Not really alone."

No answer.

She wept in the dark night, and tore the doors of the mausoleum open, clawing her way inside, entreating the pretty statues who stood over eight graves. Eight graves all filled within a few days of each other, almost a century and half ago.

Still their smiles and their screams were fresh in her mind, going in turns. Long, tormenting turns, like a master torturer applying the rack. Angelus would have been thrilled. He'd never thought his handiwork would be preserved for this long.

"I'm not dead. I'm dead, but I'm alive, you can be too. Please wake up. Please... please..." Dru wrapped herself around the statue of the angel standing silent above her mother's grave. "Don't leave me all alone. You don't know what they'll do to me."

She looked into gray, marble eyes- then gray marble wings. "Angel. Angel!" Her hand streaked out and toppled the statue with a shriek, the head shattering.

Drusilla seemed to come down to earth with a thud. She was by no means rational, but suddenly she saw one thing clearly. Her mother's angel. Destroyed. Shattered. "What've I done? What am I doing?" Tears reemerged. "Doing. Doing again and again and again!" She'd relived this pain so often.

Drusilla raked her long sharp nails across her face, making bloody streaks that followed her tear trails, that burned when the salt water hit them. It didn't hurt enough. She must be punished for bringing so much pain on them, for ending their lives. She knew it was her fault. Angelus had wanted _her_. Wanted her to suffer. So he used them to break her and then didn't let her die. She deserved to die, but she could not, and so she must hurt. She grabbed the cross affixed to the inside of the door and yanked and pulled until it came free in her hands, burning her palms, and she felt all the better for it.

A package skittered out and fell at her feet, momentarily making her check her sobs. She could glimpse the moonlight outside. This had come from out there. "What little fairy knows my hiding place?" She whispered, dropping the cross and taking the package up with blistering fingers.

She undid the wrapping with trembling hands and laughing, sobbing hiccups, the sounds and shapes of madness.

_Hello Princess,_

_ I've found a little present for you, Sweetheart. Don't know if you'll want it, don't know if you'll need it, but take it as a gift from your William. It belongs to you now._

Dru stopped reading as she heard an unfamiliar voice, unfamiliar words whispering on the wind. Not one of her normal "voices". This one had a message. This one had knowledge. She pushed the note aside and lifted out the shining gem set in gold.

"Such a pretty gift for Princess... I wonder what it does?" She mused aloud, then went back to reading.

* * *

_Two years later..._

"This is hardly a night's light readin', Rupes." Spike took a stack of four thick volumes from Giles' hands.

"Pale has it. One huge, hernia inducing book at a time. Who's with me?" Xander raised his hand.

"Me!" Buffy's hand shot up.

"Me, too!" Anya said eagerly. "Not that I really object to the amount of reading, I just want to agree with Xander as much as possible."

"Thanks, Baby." Xander kissed his girlfriend warmly.

"I'm sorry to cut into your weekends, but this is urgent. We know that we narrowly escaped the foretold coming of a hell god, and the subsequent rise to power-"

"Let's hear it for insanity." Buffy gave herself and Spike a mock cheer.

"Not insane. Pushed to it." Spike shrugged. Slaughtered a few dozen demons who were bringing some ancient power, got a few tip offs from monks through the kind people at Watchers Inc., as he liked to call them. Only a fully charged up Slayer- and a vampire mate high on her blood and desperate not to lose his true love, would have been able to face down the small army that was going to bring forth the being. Well, those two backed by a solid team of equally insane people. "Not like we did it ourselves. Seem to remember one powerful triad keeping bunches of baddies locked in place while we fought off the rest." Willow, Tara, and Anya blushed.

"Not to mention the munitions experts- _who are going to get caught!-_ who set the explosion to block their escape."

"Two buildings in two years. No one'll ever connect it. Right, G- Man?" Xander laughed carelessly, and he and Spike clinked beers.

"Right. No! Wrong. Honestly, if we could please focus on the important fact that there are rituals capable of bringing malevolent gods to this realm! The- the cosmic and spiritual interference! The- the-" Giles was almost puce and sputtering.

"Oh my gosh. Giles. We'll read two books each. Calm down, okay?" Willow soothed.

"I'll make tea." Tara took several books and laid them down as she rushed to the kitchen.

"He's always like this when Mom is out of town on a buying trip." Buffy laid her head against Spike's shoulder.

"I think he suffers from engagement ring envy." Anya glittered hers in the light.

"Totally." Buffy held hers up as well.

"Tara, I'm going to make the tea. Go sit back down and listen to mindless pseudo-psychology."

"Oh, no, Giles, I've got it."

"Well... erm hrm. I thought I might just give Joyce a call at her hotel before we become entangled in research."

A chorus of knowing "ahhhhs" followed his words. "Stop it, or I'll make all of you work on Latin again." He hustled out of earshot.

"That's only a threat to you and me." Xander muttered to the blonde across from him.

"Totally ties into the engagement envy." Buffy high fived him.

"Did you decide where yet? Is it going to be a tropical beach at sunset?" Willow recalled some of Buffy's old fantasies regarding another light-sensitive sweetheart.

"Or a pretty little chapel during a full moon?" Anya had become one of Spike's confidants.

"That was an old idea." Buffy gazed into her partner's eyes and he smiled back, at ease, at home. Still pretty bad ass, and never entirely good- but it grew on you.

"Don't think it'll happen for awhile anyway." Spike sprawled back like time didn't matter. It didn't, too much, as long as they were still together.

"We can't do a double wedding. That's my day. I'm the bride, you're the bridesmaid." Anya said flatly. Everyone laughed and Xander rolled his eyes.

"I was thinking about this lake in the Oregon mountains. Night time obviously. I think we might possibly be wanted for destruction of property but..."

"Oregon?" Xander cried. _Fifteen hours in the car with Spike..._

"Mountains?" Willow asked hesitantly. _Mountains and lake as in that hideout they had? As in outdoorsy? We're not outdoorsy!_

"Wanted?" _As in criminals? Oh dear._ Tara looked nervously at Willow.

"Slayer, don't tease them. Their eyes'll pop out. Even though eyeballs are nummy treats, sort of like jellied sweets- it hurts like a bitch."

An explosive cry of "EWWW!" followed his words.

"What's going on in there?" Giles demanded.

"Wedding planning!"

"Heavens." He turned back to the phone. "I'm sorry, Joyce. The children are acting up. I miss having another sane, rational adult about the place. Couldn't you come home tomorrow?"

Back in the living room, once the screaming had died down and the pillows had stopped being thrown, Buffy held up her hands. "What about a moon light ceremony on _this _beach? Right in town?" She turned to Spike. _Not because of anything we used to do with anyone else, not because we haven't let go of old dreams. Just because it'd be beautiful, and it'd be with you._

He could tell all that. Easily these days, after so much time together. "Think that sounds just right, Pet. Perfect."

* * *

_Two and half years later..._

"I think he was right after all. Darling William. Much wiser than any of us. They _should _have killed you. I should have cheered when she stuck a sword right through your heart and sent you to hell. you certainly sent enough others there, including me. An endless hell on earth."

Angel spun. The trail had led to this abandoned warehouse, but how had whatever he'd been trailing suddenly started trailing _him?_ Even with his eyesight, he couldn't make out the figure. The voice wasn't right either. But the scent... the words... "Dru?"

"Drusilla indeed." A figure in sweeping black velvet emerged and greeted him.

The singsong quality was gone. Something- something he couldn't visibly identify- was gone, missing. Not the same girl.

"Drusilla, yes. But not the girl you made." She didn't smile.

Angel approached her slowly. "I'm not following."

"Oh, I still have visions. I can see myself eating your heart with a shrimp fork, but I don't think that makes me mad. I'm _not _mad anymore, Angel. Now I'm simply angry."

"Dru, you've been leaving bodies all over this town. This is _my _town, and I protect it. I usually let you leave, and just hope you'll go, but I can't do that anymore, even if I- even if I made you what you are." He admitted. "People I love are in this town and I can't let you do anything to them."

"No? I can't do what you did to me? Making the little rats nibble inside my head for years and years? While you watched me, laughing at me?" Tears overflowed down a cold profile, so painfully set that she might have been carved of pure alabaster. "I don't do that, Angelus. I kill if I'm hungry. Or if there's something that needs to be _exterminated_."

A long, very thin stake appeared from the folds of her raven velvet gown, and Angel suddenly stopped worrying about anyone but himself for a minute. Dru hurt him sometimes, but had never used the word "exterminate". That sounded cold and calculated. Not at all a game.

She wouldn't kill him. The only times she'd ever truly tried had been with Spike's urging, but she knew her place. He'd sired her. No, he'd sired her and _made_ her, painted her with colors of pain and fear until she was a masterpiece that reflected his abilities.

Pride and confidence gave way to penitence. _She was the worst thing I've ever done, and all I can say is ..._

"I'm sorry." He placated. "Dru you need to get out of here, and you need to know that I'm sorry."

"You killed my father- and made me give you the name." Her voice shook. The starry eyes he was used to were hard and burning. She advanced.

"I'm sorry, Dru, I'm not the same person I was back then." He backed away, but there was really no where to go unless he could reach the glass windowed roof. "I hate what he did. I think about it every day, and I know what he did to you was the worst. I hate Angelus as much as you do, and I hate what I was when I was evil."

"Oh, you're still Angelus, Angel. You're who you were, you'll never escape it- and I'm still evil. Now I'm just not my usual sunny little self with it." Drusilla smiled, every inch the wicked black goddess Spike had always claimed her to be. She closed the distance between them. "But I'm still very, very evil..."

* * *

"You'd better make your move fast. Try not to hit her in the heart if you can help it, not until we know what's going on."

"I'm good at that." Faith perched on one of heavy iron mullions and took aim. "Did this same thing-" she leveled the crossbow on her knee, "just aiming at the other vampire last time..." She pulled the string tight and one eye closed as she zeroed in. "Okay, push it open for me, Babe."

"Of course, Dear." Wesley pushed the heavy window catch open and it dropped down with a creak that made both Drusilla and Angel start.

"Dammit!" Faith moved the bow lower with Slayer speed and the arrow whizzed down sharply.

Drusilla made a panther-like hiss as the arrow punched cleanly through her lower abdomen. With a screech she broke it off, leaving half the shaft inside her, letting blood stream down, darkening her already dark dress.

"Dru!" He should've killed her anyway, but he wouldn't have done it like this. Not now. It would have been quick and clean, not painful and prolonged. He'd prolonged her pain enough already.

"Don't touch me, Daddy Dear." She spat. "I've had enough of your hands all over me."

Angel stepped back, stung, conscience and soul smarting, more raw than any external wound.

"Yo, Angel! You gonna take things from here, or do you want us to drop in?" Faith shouted into the cavernous building.

_This night is just getting weirder by the second._ "_Faith_? Is that you? Who's with you?" Angel stopped leaning towards his fallen creation, and peered up at the ceiling.

"Wesley."

"_Wesley_? What the hell are you two doing here?" _Or together. Here, together. Did the world turn inside out and I missed it? Dru's sane and serious, and Mr. By the Book and the Black Sheep are working together?_

"It's Friday night. Date night. Track a demon serial killer and then Baskin Robbins."

"No way, you and Wesley are- argh!" Angel felt a sharp push high up his thigh as Drusilla ran him through with the jagged end of the broken arrow.

"I suppose you'd better go down." Wesley sighed and hooked a cable to her belt. "Be careful."

"Aww. Do I hafta?" She didn't wait for an answer, just smiled saucily and dove.

Wesley stifled a curse. "I'm not going to buy you a second scoop if you die!"

"That's fair!"

Dru looked at the Slayer running towards her and the angry wounded vampire over her.

"Enjoy your memories, Angelus. They're more painful than death." She scooted away and with a final reserve of strength, ran from the building, leaving a trail of crimson behind her.

* * *

"You okay?" Faith helped Angel to lean against the wall as his wounded leg suddenly gave.

"I wouldn't have been if she'd aimed just an inch or two over." Angel clutched his zipper area with a wince.

Faith raised an eyebrow. "Damn, she almost neutered you."

"Cordy would've been pissed."

"Where'd she go? Faith? Oh no..." Wesley unhooked his own belt as is feet touched down and looked at the puddles of blood and the trail spreading from it. "You stay with him, I'll go after her."

"Wes, I'll get her, you take him." Faith lost all interest in Angel, turning to face Wesley.

"He's harmless, she's not."

"I'm the Slayer, you're the Watcher."

"Not that again. You stay with him!"

"Nice to feel wanted guys." Angel interjected between the feuding pair. "Long time no see. In town long?"

"A week or so. We were heading up the coast, but we heard about the trouble. Since we were only a few hours away..." He shrugged.

"We move around." Faith looped her arm casually around the sinewy, leather clad form behind her.

"Free lance." Wesley laid his hand on hers and as soon as she relaxed marginally against him- disengaged the crossbow neatly from her fingers. "Ha. Now you stay with him and let me get her." He darted off. "You can pick the movie!"

"I'm not buying the popcorn if you die!"

"That's fair!"

Faith cursed and stared after him as he ran, worry apparent in her eyes.

Angel filled the silence. "So... you two are dating?"

"Sorta." Faith shrugged casually. "I heard you say 'Cordy'. You don't mean prom queen bitch girl do you?"

"Yeah, that's the one." Angel smiled momentarily.

"And she likes your zipper stock to be intact?" Faith raised her eyebrows and pursed her dark, full lips.

"Sorta. Not really. Kinda." Angel looked uncomfortable. "It's a long story."

Faith nodded with the same sort of discomfort. "So's ours."

"I'm not really good at talking to people."

"Me either."

"Hm. Could you cut this out of me?"

"Okay, but then I gotta bail, find my guy. He's pretty tough, but she's a psycho."

"He handles _you _okay." Angel winced as she plunged a knife into his thigh with unnecessary force.

"Don't insult the crazies. Especially ones who are saving your pale, sorry ass."

He grunted. "Sorry."

"I'll let it slide this time." She pulled the gore covered wood from him easily and wiped her hands on his shirt. "Nice seeing you."

"Yeah." He wincingly stood up and limped a few steps to test the leg. "Maybe I'll see you in another couple years."

"Sounds good."

* * *

Drusilla knew she couldn't die of blood loss. But the world did seem to shine and shimmer in a way that she remembered came with madness. "But I'm better."

"But you still have your visions." A soft voice reminded her. "You were never mad because of them. You were blessed with them, whatever anyone says, I know that's true."

Drusilla blinked up dreamily from the spot where she was resting. "Sophie?"

"Hello, 'Silla."

All the years and all the visions, and her sister had never spoken to her directly, and nothing had shone with such clarity.

"We couldn't," Sophie seemed able to read her sister's mind, "too much noise, too much darkness and pain and fear... We tried so often. I think we may have made you worse." The angelic voice quivered mournfully. "But you can hear me now, sweet 'Silla?"

"I can, but I don't want to go mad again." Drusilla informed her quietly.

"You aren't. Well, not yet. Perhaps you will. You've been so strong. But borne so much."

"And the pain of your memories is worse than death." Drusilla murmured hazily, echoing her words to Angel. With a slick twist of her razor like nail she dug her finger in deep enough to touch the remainder of the arrow in her side, and pulled it free with a banshee's scream.

She rested again, and opened her eyes to see if the ethereal form had vanished. She had not, and in addition a second glowing form had joined her, one she assumed was her other sister. "I can't be with you, Darlings. Even if I die again." Her voice wobbled and tears flowed. "He made me... he made me unclean. He's got me set to go to hell, to be tortured again, and again, and I shall go mad. I dread that so, now that I'm finally able to hear myself think. After a hundred years or so, you have no idea what a relief that is." A miserable peace it was, a hard, vengeful peace, but oh sometimes it was so sweet, to see the world through sane eyes for the first time in over a century.

Sophie and Annie exchanged a glance. "But your soul is in store." The second figure said.

"You're not responsible for the crimes performed on you, or the heinous acts you witnessed."

"Oh, my dears." She murmured mournfully. "You don't know what I've been doing while you were with the angels. And you must never know, because I still love you. Whatever I am."

Another lingering glance. "If part of you loves us... if we know where your soul is... there may be a way to bring them both together, and bring you home to us. There are limbos and emptinesses. Vastnesses. We could find a place."

"I _am_ going mad. My dear sisters should know nothing of such things." Drusilla licked the blood from her fingers, and reckoned she saw the misty shapes wincing. "I'm not pure of heart."

"We love you. We still love you, whatever you are." Sophie bent and Drusilla felt something cool caress her cheek, like a kiss of rain. "There is something that can take your essence, and bring it to us. We hear it comes to those lost souls who have no other passage. It moves in the underworld, and it reunites those lost with their true loves. It may not work. But we _do_ truly love you, 'Silla."

"I love you, too, my beautiful ones." Drusilla reached out her hand, which slid sleekly through nothing. They were gone. "Alone again."

"Not quite." Wesley slid from the shadows, crossbow reloaded and aimed heart-high this time. "Angel and Spike have always provided protection for you, Drusilla, by which I mean in the last few years we've left you alone because you mean so much to them. Well, to Spike." _That and you've never crossed our paths._

"My sweet William. He made me better. Only I feel horrible in whole new ways." She chuckled, a sound like tinkling crystal that thoroughly unnerved anyone who heard it.

"He loved you very much, and he has only ever wanted you well." Wesley struggled to keep his composure. "But I love someone too, and so does he, and you keep murdering people. One day you'll strike too close to home. We can't look the other way anymore." _We never should have looked the other way in the first place, only- only love seems to have some redemption, even over the most demonic._

Another chuckle, weaker this time, "Then kill Angelus, he made me what I am."

"If I see Angelus again, I will gladly kill him." Wesley said calmly.

"You can't change what you are, damned you will be, when you're one of us." She ridged her graceful brow and crooked her finger. "He condemned me, and I condemned my William, and you cannot change it."

"A few years ago, I'd have agreed with you. Then I watched Spike change and be whatever the hell he wanted. I've seen others so it as well." He looked at her, but seemed to be seeing something else entirely. "Not to sound trite, but love conquers all."

She paused, the blood wet stake shifting from her dress to her palm almost unbeknownst to her. "Even if I'm so very evil? Even without a soul?"

"Apparently." Wesley leveled the bow. "But I'm afraid I haven't got time to find out if you decide to rehabilitate. I'm sorry, Drusilla."

She held up her hand, red tipped wood in it. "There are worse things than death."

She lunged. Wesley shouted hoarsely, and the wooden bullet went wide, high up into her right shoulder. "I should know. I've already lived through them." Teeth snapped and clicked inches from his throat.

"Back off, bitch!" The thudding of boots which were speeding so fast that they sounded like the beating of bird wings heralded Faith's arrival.

"Oooh, love conquers all does it?" Drusilla whispered, poised over him and looked into his eyes.

"I know death does not conquer love." He whispered back, cold and pale, waiting for the plunge, and wishing Faith was just a little faster or a little slower, either way, so she wouldn't see another Watcher die. _I can't let her see that... _He would fight, he would pick just the right moment, and he would follow Faith's lead. They'd followed each other down many a dark path, and always found light at the end.

_Death does not conquer love. There are worse things than death._ This time she would choose the better option, even as frightening as that final unknown option seemed. "You're a smart little man. Be good to your blackbird with her broken wings."

Wesley gasped as she moved like lightening, sitting up. He heard a harsh scream and the whistle of wood in the air.

Faith's scream emptied her lungs as she emptied her arrow. She watched Drusilla's hands plunge- in, not down, and dust descended. The stake she'd shot through the air made a hole in the falling ashes.

"What the fuck just happened?" Faith demanded, sinking to her knees as Wesley sat up, brushing himself off.

"I think she wanted to go more than she wanted anything else- and she just realized it." He rubbed the back of the head. "She looks so small, but she's very forceful."

"You have a thing for forceful brunettes." Faith tried to joke and helped him up, shaking slightly, not looking at him.

"Only one forceful brunette." He assured her, and squeezed her hands to make them steady. "Well. Sorted. Perhaps we ought to stop for the night? We can have ice cream anytime." He suggested, feeling her damp fingers clasping his to the point of pain.

"I- uh- I just want to go home." Faith stammered under the guise of clearing her throat.

Which was an odd thing to say, at least to the casual observer, because they never stayed in one place for too long, and technically, home was an as yet unspecified hotel, or at the most a month to month lease.

He understood however. "Of course. A good night's sleep after so much excitement."

Black leather and jeans fell into matched stride, a cross between a swagger and being weary. "Sleep? Who said anything about sleep?"

* * *

"Wakey, wakey..."

Spike snorted in his sleep and squinted. Bright, bright light. "Slayer, close the bloody curtains before you leave in the mornings..."

"Sweet William. It's still dark. Where _you_ are."

Spike's eyes shot open. "Dru!" _Where's Buffy. Bloody hell, where is she? _"Dru!" This time the tone was angrier, holding a note of panic.

"She's asleep beside you."

"I'm not asleep, you woke me up! How'd you get in our flat?" He was rising, scanning for her.

"Shh. I'm only passing through your dreams." She smiled and stroked his face with soft, white fingertips that glowed.

"Dru, you're warm."

"It's cozy here. It's not heaven. But it's home."

Spike tried to peer around her, but all he could see was rippling light and bending rays. "Where are you, Pet?"

"I'm happy. And at peace."

"Honest?" His heart did a little tap dance, sure signs of this being only a dream.

Until she bent down and kissed his forehead, and he would swear it was real. "Honest. Thank you for the gift. I know you have the same. With your Sunshine."

"Happy and at peace, Dru. With all my heart." His senses tried to leave the haven he was in, searching for the cause of his new found joy and contentment. He could feel things shifting, feel the light fading, darkness returning. He was no longer touched by warm fingers or warm lips, but wrapped entirely in soft heat. _Slayer against me. Slayer's safe. All's right with the world. Really right, now._

A final whisper sent him back into the waking world. "Thank you."

"Always."

"Spike... you okay?" Buffy sat up and pushed the hair out of her eyes.

"Buffy." He smiled and blinked, feeling her slender form rubbing against his, hand on his chest.

"You were mumbling and twitching." Buffy giggled and snuggled deeper up against him. "It's Saturday, we don't have to get up yet."

"No. No, we don't. It's a glorious day to have a lie in, right here with you." He let out a deep sigh and a deeper laugh as he suddenly rolled on top of her.

"Ooh, morning delight." Buffy giggled and embraced him. "You look happy."

He'd tell her later. Right now he was going to be thankful for what he had, and bask in that "Sunshine". "What's not to be happy about? Happy, and at peace."


End file.
